


Meet the Jack of all Trades

by big_scrunch



Series: Jack of All Trades [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: <-- Reader is included in that, Amnesia, And more hurt and more comfort, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gambling, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Needles, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Tenth Class (Team Fortress 2), a cigarette is smoked, hey did i mention how slow the burn is, i learned how to play poker so i could write this yall, in a tf2 way, platonic blindfolding, professional blindfolding between coworkers for coworking purposes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_scrunch/pseuds/big_scrunch
Summary: A tenth class is suddenly hired and memory-wiped by TF Industries. As a wildcard on the field, her unannounced appearance as the "Jack-of-all-Trades" shakes up the team in and out of battle.
Relationships: Engineer (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, I'll be writing these as different routes in the series, Medic (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Miss Pauling (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Sniper (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, Spy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader, also this is kind of a soldier friendship simulator now so I hope you like Soldier!
Series: Jack of All Trades [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839424
Comments: 124
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is gonna be a longer reader x someone story. I'll be dividing it into a bunch of different routes pairing the reader with different classes; right now I'm planning on Engie, Ms. Pauling, Sniper, Medic, and Spy but it's possible that I could add more in the future if folks want that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is the first part of a reader x character series. Once I've got this done, I'll be writing different paths for each of the pairings listed in the tags.  
> And here is a "Meet The" screen made by the amazing writer Poputchikz! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDcKwHUimpw&feature=youtu.be Check out her great reader x spy fic, Double Backer BLUs: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265354/chapters/58479970 <3 <3
> 
> Also, sorry for not including much Pauling. I love her but it didn't really make sense for her to just be vibing around the base all the time :^( There will be nonstop lesbian in her route I promise

You fidgeted with the handle of the blue suitcase on your lap as you watched the purple moped approach from the horizon, kicking up red New Mexican sand as it crept towards you. The dorky vehicle sputtered to a stop as a trim bookish woman hopped off a good thirty yards from where you sat in front of the base. "You're Ms. Pauling, right?" you called to her. This had to be the most dangerous question you'd ever asked.

She whipped a pistol from the waist of her skirt as she hopped off her scooter.

"I just came to ask about a job," you said sincerely as you slid the blue suitcase of intelligence across the sand to her kitten heels, raising your empty hands a little. "And I didn't open the intel. The surveillance tapes will back me up on that."

Pauling narrowed her disarmingly cute eyes. "You have thirty seconds to convince me not to kill you."

 _That's plenty, if she's as smart as I've heard,_ you think as you let out a small sigh of relief. "I arrived unarmed and killed the five mercs stationed here within four minutes, using nothing but the weapons dropped by my fallen adversaries."

"What an odd flex," she mused.

"Indeed. But this flex would also be a real investment. I'm a jack of all trades, see. Hiring me reduces the excessive waste of material you see on the battlefield from downed combatants. I'm well versed in all manner of firearms, mechanics, and medicine... I can pick up wherever my teammates or opponents leave off and change gears at the drop of a hat. Of course, I'm a master of no skill, but that makes me the most versatile hire you'd have. And I'll take half the salary you're offering the others."

"Alright," she said with a pretty little smile. The last thing you saw was the second gun she pulled as she leveled it at your chest and fired.

\---

You were roused from a deep slumber by a faint beeping. Instinctively, you rolled over to slap the snooze button on your alarm clock, but fell blindly and smacked against linoleum floor, sending a jolt of pain through your chest. "What the hell..." you murmured, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

"Lovely!" a German voice exclaimed behind you. "Awake a full hour before I expected. Quite resilient, zis one!"

"Good morning, sunshine," a woman said from close to him, "I decided not to kill you. Welcome to the team."

Trying to get off the floor, you found that your limbs were completely lethargic. Rolling back over was a nigh Herculean task. After your eyes adjusted to the glare of the fluorescent lights above you, you saw a woman in purple standing next to a sharply dressed doctor with bloodstained sleeves. Your heart fluttered. "What 'team'?"

"Red," the lady responded nonchalantly.

"Red _what?"_

"The red team. The crew of mercenaries you asked to join a few hours ago. This will catch you up to speed," she explained, tossing you a manila folder.

"Mercenaries, what? I'm not a mercenary, I'm a..." there was something on the tip of your tongue, something you knew should be obvious to you. It was sickening to not immediately know what you were.

"Jack of all trades. Great with all sorts of weaponry." She turned to the man next to her. "How much did you take out?"

"I told you last Halloween zat brain scooping is _not_ an exact science. Ze removal you requested comes vis a price, you know."

"Excuse me?" you piped up, "Brain scooping?"

"She's razher inquistive," the man grumbled.

The woman started putting on a motor helmet. "In order to bring you on the team, we had to... erase some things you shouldn't have known. And before you throw a fit over it, you willingly complied to the procedure." She quickly waggled a signed contract in front of your eyes. "I really gotta get going now, but I'm sure you'll figure it all out in no time. You told me you're a super learner... if that's even a thing."

Before you could say another word, she was out the door. Now you tried to regain your composure and sit up at least, which hurt less than before, but still hurt a lot. You got that same fluttering in your heart when you turned to the only other left in the medbay. "What did you do to me?"

"Vell, I obviously did a little brain scooping, zen I replaced your heart vis one zat could handle future procedures and ze work you vill be doing. My patients report a fluttering sensation for a couple hours aftervards, so you probably shouldn't vorry if you are experiencing zat."

 _Heart replacement?_ As the doctor cleaned his equipment, you looked down at your chest and saw dark spots of blood peeking through your sleek crimson top. A patch on your upper arm caught your eye. A circle with a question mark in the middle. _How fitting._ You also noticed you're wearing baggy camo pants with enormous pockets. You went to scratch your head and the doctor snaps at you.

"Nein! I just stitched zat back up!"

It was very difficult to resist the urge to itch now, and you were certain that you would forget as soon as you were out of his sight. You sat still for a moment, trying to remember anything you might have known about the situation you got yourself into. No luck.

"Alright," said the doctor, "Let's get you acquainted vis your new home." He offered you a hand, now clean of blood, and you tentatively accepted it as he yanked you to your feet. Although the exhaustion was slowly draining from your limbs, pain still pulsed in your torso, and you quickly slumped over into the stranger's arms. "Ah, yes," he sighed, "I forgot zat it takes a minute to adjust to my healing methods."

Falling into him gave you more of a shock than any of the previous revelations combined. It felt like you hadn't touched another person in... well, you couldn't know how long. His chest was comforting and warm, despite being speckled with your blood. You lingered for a moment longer than necessary, perhaps, and shakily straightened yourself. "Still," you started with a small squeak, trying to clear the sudden awkwardness, "Your methods are impressive. It's been, what'd that lady say, a few hours since my heart _and_ brain surgery? Yet I can already walk!" You took a few steps towards the door before faltering again. Quickly, the doctor caught your shoulders to prevent you from face planting.

"Ah, fraulein, flattery vill get you everyvhere. But perhaps you should rest a little longer vhile your body gets used to its new and improved heart." He guided you back to the gurney while you leaned on his arm. It really hit you that you suddenly had a different heart inside you-- a stranger's heart. How lonely, to lose the core of you, and have it replaced with a random, unknown one. Who had it belonged to?

While you laid waiting for your body to catch up with you, you cracked open the briefing that purple lady had given you. It was a letter written on a typewriter.

WELCOME, Jack of all Trades.

You have been contracted by TF Industries to reclaim and defend the rightful property of Reliable Excavation Demolition and its subsidiaries through any means necessary. Mondays through Saturdays, you will be battling mercenaries hired by RED's violent rival, Builders League United. These mercenaries will resemble those on your own teammates, but are not to be communicated with, fraternized with, nor trusted; you are obligated to kill them on sight, even when off the clock.

Death is no longer to be feared; you, your teammates, and your rivals, have all been integrated into "Respawn Systems," which will revivify you in your base. Of course, you must stay alive as long as possible in order to defend or claim your objectives.

As compensation for your services, $100,000 per month will be deposited into a bank account set aside for you and controlled by TF Industries. You will not have access to these funds until you have been employed by TF Industries for a year. An additional $100,000 per month is being given to the person and address you have supplied us. As previously agreed upon, TF Industries will not disclose this person nor address to you until a year has passed. Your living expenses will be covered, and you will be living in your class's assigned room at RED's main base.

If you have any questions, please keep them to yourself.

\--The Administrator.

The last part caught you off guard. First of all, that was a shitload of money. Second of all, why wouldn't you be allowed to know where the money was going, especially if _you_ told them where to put it? You were dying of curiosity by this point, and even if you were still aching, you wanted to learn more about what was going on.

"Hey, Doctor, I'm feeling better now. I'm ready to see the base."

"Great! And for ze record, you can call me Medic."

"Do you not have a name or something?"

"We just don't typically use zem here. But... my name is Ludwig, if you must know."

"Alright, Dr. Ludwig."

He seemed somehow uncomfortable with the name, but you forgot about it as soon as you stepped out into the hallway and immediately bumped into... a bumper car? Its driver was even stranger than the vehicle itself. They were wearing a gas mask and were covered head to toe in a flame retardant suit, and they sat scrunched up in the tiny cart. For a moment, they cocked their head, then sprung up out of their seat and swooped you up in a hug. They smelled like campfires, and you were terribly confused not to mention spooked.

"Careful, Pyro! I just put a new heart in her."

Pyro put you down gently. You heard laughter down the hallway. "Haha, eat my dust!" someone called in a Boston accent. He was also in a bumper car, and was wearing a baseball cap and tshirt. He wasn't going terribly fast, though, considering his mode of transportation.

Pyro, panicked, scrambled back into the cart and pursued the glib racer. Something about them was kind of adorable, though, and something about their competitor was infuriatingly smug; Pyro had to win this. Despite Medic's protests, you got behind Pyro's cart and started pushing them faster down the hallway. It didn't take long to close the gap and get them into first place, the two of you laughing the whole way.

"What da heck?! Not fair!"

Pyro pointed urgently at the end of the hallway with their gloved hand and tried to say something. "Mmph mm mmph mmph!" That was probably the finish line, then. You redoubled your efforts, despite the waves of pain in your chest.

The other guy dashed past you two, bent with his hands on the seat of the cart and the rest of him outside it, running to push it. "Vroom vroom, mothafuckas!" He and his bumper car crossed the finish line and stood up with pride, laughing. As Pyro sullenly crossed the line without you, the winner finally acknowledged your presence. "Wait, who da hell are you?"

"I'm a new hire, I guess," you answered uncertainly.

"Ze tenth class," Medic said, walking up to you all like a professional who doesn't race bumper cars down hallways. A blush rose to your cheeks. What a weird impression you must be making. "She's a 'Jack of all Trades,' a vild card of sorts."

"Nice! Well, you already know da most important thing about dis team. Dat I'm da best here." He put a foot up on his bumper car and flexed a thin arm. "Call me Scout."

You offered a hand for a shake, but he gave you a down-low high five instead. "Hey Doc," he asked Medic, "Has she met the resta da team yet?" He fake whispered to you pointing to himself, "Even dough it all goes downhill from here."

"Nein. I vas on ze vay to ze common room to introduce zem."

"How 'bout I race her dere?" He asked, then took off without waiting for an answer.

"He's like zat," Medic said with an apologetic shrug. The two of you walked down the hall, with Pyro silently driving their bumper car next to you.

The quiet gave you a moment to step back from this madness and panic. Why would you take a job like this? The time for panicking was being cut terribly short, however, as the three of you approached the doors to a bustling room. Medic shot you a look of concern, seemingly worried about the effects of your brain scrambling.

"Are you ready for your grand entrance, Jack?" he asked.

"That sounds so weird," you chuckled uncomfortably, "I'd prefer it if you used my name. I'm-- uh..."

"Alright, 'Uhhh' it is."

"No-- no, Dr. Ludwig, I can't remember my name!"

"Ooo, zat is a common side effect for such an extensive operation..."

"W-when will I start remembering?"

Medic sucked on his teeth and rubbed his neck. "Vell... you still have all your semantic and procedural memories. Shooting a gun, playing an instrument, zings like zat. Your ozher memories... zere's no saying vhen certain memories might be triggered, but things vill start coming back to you in ze next 3 months or so. But our employers might choose to tell you some details earlier."

"Do you know what my name is? Did that lady tell you who I am?"

"I'm afraid not. But zere's no reason to vorry," he comforted you with a hand on your back, "Zey told Scout his name in only 6 months!"

There was so much that had been yanked away from you. Where were you from, who were your family and friends, and it might take a half a year to get them back? You froze and started sweating bullets. 

The door next to you swung open and another man stepped out. He wore a sharp red suit and a balaclava and was momentarily shocked to see you. He observed the scene worldlessly for a moment before offering you the unlit cigarette in his hand. "A new recruit, I take it?"

"As far as I can tell..." you croaked. It was almost impossible to speak. You reached out a trembling hand to take the cig, even though you didn't think you were a smoker. You put it between your lips and the man lit it with an engraved silver lighter, with Pyro staring at the flame intently. The stranger's hand was so close to your face that you felt if he were anyone other than this reassuring French gentleman with his contagious confidence you might have just run away to deal with the anxiety attack yourself.

"So," he started, lighting up his own cigarette and stifling a smile when you coughed trying to inhale the smoke, "Do you remember anyzing?"

"I... don't think so."

"It will come back to you. Slowly, at first, with little details. Ze first zing I remembered was a little cafe back in Nice. It won't be anyzing big for a while, but it will come." Pyro had scooted their bumper car right up to his foot, and was looking up at him expectantly. "Alright, just be careful with it," he said as he tossed them the fancy lighter. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Medic looking rather disgruntled with your choice to smoke during your recovery.

You tried to remember any restaurants or anything like that. You vaguely drummed up some pizza places but couldn't recall any specifics. "It's a really... empty feeling, isn't it?" you quietly mused, your panic attack slowly subsiding with his words. 

"Loneliest in ze world." A silence hung in the air as Pyro messed around with the lighter, Medic grumbled, and you and the gentleman took drags of your cigarettes. "Ah, where are my manners?" He extended a gloved hand for you to shake. "If ze mask did not give me away already, I am ze Spy."

His handshake was firm yet gentle, with his other hand delicately on your elbow. You couldn't help but blush a little. "I'm the 'Jack-of-all-Trades.'"

"Do you want to be called Jack? Or would Jacqueline suit you better?"

"Either works, I suppose."

"I will call you Jacqueline, zen, if you don't mind."

"Alright." You took a deep breath. "I think I'm ready to meet the others now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying SFM out recently and the first thing I made was a recreation of the bumper car race! Pardon the low quality I still don't know what I'm doing.  
> 


	2. A Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries to make a dramatic entrance, but Soldier does it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I establish more friendships than romantic interests here, I suppose, but goshdarnit I want to be friends with Soldier. 
> 
> Also, sorry @scout for making you a punching bag this chapter :/

You finished smoking and stepped towards the door. Medic, sick of waiting, threw it open in front of you and shouted into the dim common room. "Ve have a new recruit!" In front of you, three more mercs sat around a poker table playing cards, gambling with an assortment of cash, slips of paper, strange guns, booze, and some weird hats. They looked at you surprised. 

You realized that you needed to stop being bashful and make a good first impression as the deadly killer that... you weren't quite sure you were. With an attempt at a stony expression, your thumbs through your belt loops, and your chin up, you introduced yourself. "I'm the Jack of all Trades," you said in a slightly deeper voice.

The biggest man at the table let out a bass chuckle. "You are like Scout, no? Did he show you how to look tough?"

Your face flushed as he called you out, because you _were_ kind of acting like him. The only way to recover was to go along with it. "What can I say," you said with an exaggerated Bostonian accent, "I learned from da best." With a foot propped up on the garbage can next to the door, you flexed in a perfect imitation of his act a few minutes ago.

The three laughed. "She's not like Scout at all," one piped up in a Scottish accent, "Look at those guns!" He was slightly slumped in his seat and had a drunken slur to his boisterous voice. It took a second for you to connect his accent with him, since he was black and also wearing an enormous sombrero. 

Notes of pride rose in your (still hurting) chest at the compliment. Emboldened, you took a seat at the table next to him. "Demo," he said with a hand over his heart and a wide smile. You cocked your head at him, confused. "I blow people up. I'm the demo-- *burp*-- the demolitions man."

"I am heavy weapons guy," the first man said with a smirk. He was intimidating as hell; his bald head towered over the table. He could probably crack your skull in half with one hand... you were grateful that you'd be fighting alongside him rather than against him. "They call me Heavy." Heavy added four more cards to the sloppy piles on the table, causing Demo to groan in frustration.

Spy slinked into a seat too while Pyro continued to admire the craftsmanship of his lighter. Medic, having fulfilled the extent of his obligation to the new recruit, returned to the Medbay. 

"You want us ta call you Jack?" asked the third, who was wearing a construction helmet and tinted goggles despite being inside. What you could see of his face was rugged and amiable. "Kinda reminds me of someone else we know..."

"Yes, where _did_ Soldier go?" Heavy wondered.

"Wherever he is, he took Scout with him," Spy muttered, "So I cannot imagine any good will come of zis."

The door on the other side of the room burst open and another merc ran in with a raccoon in hands and Scout in tow. "Don't get near dat thing, guys, I swear to God," Scout frantically warned the room. His face was speckled with scratches and his arms were even worse. The animal was wildly clawing at the newcomer's hands as he carried it, but that did nothing to shake the overjoyed smile from his face. An American flag bandana was was pinned around its back half.

"Look at Captain Bites!" he exclaimed in a gravelly voice, "He's almost combat-ready!"

"Why is he wearing a skirt if he's a boy?"

"Why not? Demo wears a skirt sometimes. He's the manliest and deadliest person I've ever met!" Demo's eye started tearing up as he threw his arms around the man's waist. His friend lifted Captain Bites towards the ceiling so Demo wouldn't get mauled, and his own rugged scratched up face turned a little pink as he pursed his lips into a thin line.

"You're me best friend, and I love ya, Jane," Demo mumbled into his torso. 

_Jane?_ you thought momentarily.

"Wait a second," the raccoon man said. He paused, then dropped Captain Bites and pulled a shotgun on you in one swift motion. "Intruder!" he shouted as the little monster darted for Scout's ankles, and Scout darted out of the room.

Some other part of you took over as you ducked and rolled between his legs, springing up behind him and putting one arm across his collarbone and planting your other hand firmly on his chin, ready to crack his neck like a glow-stick. _How many times have I done this?_ Silence washed over the room. You could feel the newcomer grimace at you.

"Didn't I say she reminded me of someone?" the goggled mercenary asked sarcastically.

"Soldier, zis is our new teammate. She is not an intruder," Spy said.

Under you hand, his face went from hate-filled sneer to excited grin. "Outstanding! She has excellent neck-snapping technique." 

"Sorry about that," you said as you dropped your hands and he spun around to face you.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"I suppose I'll be going by Jack."

"Welcome to the team, Jack. Say, would you help me catch a raccoon?"

"Uhhh..." You looked to the card table, where Spy was shaking his head and mouthing "don't."

"We don't have time for lolly-gagging, Private!" he yelled as he grabbed you by the arm and the two of you dashed out in the direction of Scout's distant screams.

You had no idea where you were going as you wound through kitchens and dining halls and armories and practice ranges, back and forth, trying to echolocate Scout and his assailant.

"So, your name is Jack?" Soldier asked as you ran down a corridor.

"It's all the name I have, I suppose. Yeah."

"My name's Jane! Jane Doe." You blinked in confusion, almost running straight into a wall. "So you're in good company."

"I already figured I was, but... why do you say that?"

"Help!" Scout yelped close by, "Jesus, God, Tom Jones, someone, help!"

"Why are you crying for that hippie, maggot?!" Soldier flew into the workshop where the raccoon had cornered his prey. Scout was trying to fend off the beast with a plank of wood, but it was impossibly fast, vicious, and dedicated. Its commanding officer turned to you and sternly told you, "We are taking him _alive_."

Something about the way he said that had a familiar sting. Hearing it felt like being scratched by a rabid raccoon. But there was no time for that, you had a rescue mission to complete. "Loud and clear, chief."

After a few unsuccessful dives at Captain Bites (which drew some of his sharp ire) you glanced around the workshop to find something useful. There was a tarp on the ground, and you quickly whipped up a plan you suspected wouldn't work.

"Hey Soldier! Can you lure Bites away from Scout for a sec?"

"Affirmative!" He swatted at the coon as you ran, tarp flapping behind you, towards Scout, who was in the fetal position.

You threw it over Scout. "Hey, what da hell Jack?"

"I need you to get Bites back over here. Make him angry."

"Uhh... okay... Hey, you little furry dipshit--"

Instantly the thing lunged back at its primary target, swinging its claws. "Soldier! Help me bag this thing!" On the count of three, you brought the corners of the tarp together and had the writhing monster in a neat little bag.

Soldier offered you a high five although his hands were even more torn up than yours. It was a high five with a full clap that resonated throughout the workshop. _Hell yeah_. You both extended one to Scout, who half-heartedly accepted yours and left Soldier hanging. "Why da hell do you still have dat demon?"

"Lieutenant-- LIEUTENANT Bites," he yelled at the bag, pointedly demoting the raccoon, "Will be a real asset to the team once we figure out how to to turn his fighting spirit against BLU." He was still holding a hand up, so you just gave him another high five and he turned to you. "You've done your country proud, son."

"Thanks," you murmured, distracted by the blueprints and prototypes you just noticed around the garage. Automated turrets, ammunition dispensers with healing capabilities, freaking _teleporters?_ Who made this stuff?

"I'm goin' to da Medbay. See you 'round, Jack," sulked Scout as he headed back. You realized that the post-operation pain that had been plaguing you had vanished at some point. It was as though a mysterious doctor never took out your heart and replaced it without your knowing. 

"Soldier, what did you mean earlier about being in good company?"

"They didn't give me my name or anything either. So it's Jane Doe now," he explained, as though it were the simplest thing. "Just like you, Jack Doe! I guess we're related now."

"Oh! Are you a new recruit too then?"

He burst out laughing.

"Jane... how long have you been here?"

"Three years. But time sure flies when you're doing your patriotic duty."

 _Three... years? He hasn't remembered anything, and they haven't told him anything in three years?!_ You broke into a cold sweat. What Spy told you sounded okay, but he failed to mention that you might never get _you_ back...

"I'm going to train Lieutenant Bites to hate blue things. Want to help?"

"No thanks," you replied, "That was enough raccoon wrangling for me. I think I'm gonna... get some fresh air..."

The two of you parted ways and you aimlessly wandered until you found an exit. Cold dry night air slapped you in the face and you walked along the outer wall of the base. _Will I be like this forever? Is this going to drive me insane? Am I going to be a crazy raccoon lady?_ These questions were interrupted by a flash of red across your vision.

Instinct took over and you ducked behind a nearby A/C unit not a second before a loud shot rang across the desert.


	3. A Nice Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds herself in a bloody dangerous standoff with a trigger-happy Aussie. Cards are dealt.

Throughout the still New Mexican night the piercing echo of the shot was bouncing off red cliff faces and mesas, sending a few birds flying away from the RED Base as the echoes softened. While you crouched behind the A/C Unit your mind was racing, trying to figure out whether this shooter was attacking the base or was another member of the team. Did anyone say how many mercs there were? Was it mentioned that there was someone left to meet?

Earlier, Medic had introduced you to Scout as “the tenth class,” even though nobody mentioned that there were any more than the eight you met. A Sniper, in all likelihood, based on the red light that you took to be a laser sight. Looking around, there were no doors back in close enough to escape to, and since you couldn’t fight somebody you couldn’t even see, your best bet was to convince the sharpshooter that you were on their side.

“I’M ON YOUR TEAM!” you shouted into the night, but your only response was the distorted reverberations of your own voice. “I’M A NEW RECRUIT! JUST OUT FOR A WALK…” Again, no answer. The bullet glinted in the moonlight and caught your eye; on inspection you recognized it immediately as a 7.62mm so yes, you were definitely in the crosshairs of a sniper. Judging by its dent and the small crater it left on the wall next to you, you determined that they were at 10 o’clock in relation to you. Figuring that out came as easily to you as counting. Yet you still didn’t quite… feel like a mercenary. You wondered if you did before, or if fighting-- _killing--_ had been something you just fell into, and this uncertainty wasn’t anything new to you.

Snapping yourself out of your reverie, you tried to think of ways to prove that you were on RED. Nothing came to mind that you could say— anything you learned today could easily be known to the enemy. Your red shirt likely wouldn’t do you any good, since they probably saw it before and shot anyways. But maybe if they saw the patch on the sleeve… all the other mercenaries seemed to have one. It was worth a shot. You surveyed the area to double check that nobody else was around and awkwardly struggled to pull your shirt off while staying under the cover of the short A/C unit. You propped it onto a stick laying at your feet.

“See? Look!” You called out before raising the shirt with the patch pointing out. Instantly, another shot whizzed by over your head, shattering the stick all over you and going right through your shirt. As your plucked wooden shards out of it, something grabbed your eye. Your sternum was glowing red.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped. _Could this be my new heart?_ If it was, wouldn’t that be undeniable proof? But, well… there was a decision to make. It wasn’t bright enough to glow through fabric, so… to die with a shirt on, or to have a chance at living in a bra? Dying wasn’t permanent anymore, according to the mysterious Administrator, but as anxious you were to preserve your remaining scraps of dignity, you weren’t too keen on testing out death.

With shaking legs you prepared to come out of hiding. After a deep breath, you shot up, pointing frantically at your chest beacon, red-faced with both anger and humiliation.

“S-sorry!” an Australian voice called out, “Nobody told me we had anyone else comin’ out here.” You ducked back down and scrambled back into your shirt, which now had two big holes near the collar.

“That seems to be a running theme tonight. And unless the job comes with an unlimited wardrobe, you owe me a shirt!”

The sniper had stood up from behind the boulder he hid behind and was walking towards you. His lanky build, floppy slouch hat, and furiously blushing face dismissed the shadowy notion you had of the silent assassin. “Lucky for me, unlimited wardrobe’s parta the bargain,” he said as you cautiously stood.

“What were you doing out here hiding with a rifle pointed at the base?”

“Was out for a walk like you. Didya need some distance from the whackjobs in there?”

“Soldier just had me wrangle a raccoon, so yeah,” you confessed, pulling back a sleeve to show him your scratch-emblazoned arm.

“Those’re _some_ battle scars, mate. I’m Sniper, if ya couldn’t tell.” He tipped his hat, his smile spreading across his face.

“I’m Jack… the Jack-of-all-Trades, that is.”

“What’s that then?”

“Well, they took so many memories from me that I’m not certain. But I think I’m good with all sorts of weaponry, so I could be a sort of wildcard, using any weapon I can find out there.”

“Huh. That’ll make things interesting. Care to join me on a stroll?”

While some more fresh air wouldn’t hurt, and this Australian was rather friendly now that he didn’t have a rifle trained on you, it seemed wiser to become more acquainted with the mercs in the common room than to spend all your time with one. You explained as much to him.

“No worries,” he said, but he couldn’t completely mask his disappointment.

“I would love to later, just not tonight.”

“Well my camper is over thereabouts if you ever care to take me up on the offer,” he said, gesturing towards a small cluster of trees. “But ‘til then, g’night, Sheila.”

You rolled your eyes. “Night, Sniper.” You hiked back to the door you came out of and traced your erratic coon-chasing steps to the common room.

When you walked in, the crew was playing poker with Spy and a healed Scout now dealt in. The Texan was raking in everything in the pot, much to the discontent of the other players. You could swear you heard him "yee haw" under his breath.

"Could I jump in this hand?" you interjected.

"Sure, Jackie," he answered with a smile that looked a little odd since you couldn't see half his face. (You wouldn't say it was evil-looking, but you wouldn't say it wasn't either.) “But what happened to yer shirt? D’you have a run-in with Stretch?”

You pointed to the bullet hole in your shirt as you sat between Demo and Spy. “Oh, this? This is nothing. You should see the other guy.” The joke was admittedly lame and barely half a joke, but it earned a chuckle from him anyways.

"I'm the Engineer, by the way. Pleasure ta meet you." You remembered all the impressive blueprints you saw in the workshop, and realized he must have created them. He extended a gloved hand and you shook it. The hand beneath the glove was skeletal and metallic, but you suppressed your shock. "Really?" he puffed as he sat back down. "Wow, there really is _no_ surprising this one. I usually get folks pretty good with the Gunslinger."

"I just woke up with a new heart, new job, and no memory. A prosthetic hand is the least surprising thing I've seen all day." As he dealt, it dawned on you. "Wait, I can't play. I don't have anything to bet with."

"Y' don't have to bet with money—”

“Yeah, what if we played some strip pokah?” Scout interrupted, “Or she could bet with—”

“Scout!” Spy yelled over him, “Could you please go an _hour_ without saying somezhing zis crass?”

“Ah, come on! Remember dat one time we all played strip pokah? Dat was so fun!”

“Scout, we all remember because you bring it up every poker night,” the Engineer sighed, “In fact it’s always the sign that it’s time for me to cut you off.” He swiped the vodka bottle away from scout’s place, knocking a few empty Bonk cans to the ground.

“Come oooon, just one more Bonk-ka!”

“Scout, if ya weren’t too damn wasted you’da known I was gonna cut you off for that. Anyways, Jackie,” he said, turning back to you and holding up a scrap of paper from his winnings, “Some of these papers we use are IOU's for makin' each other sandwiches 'n stuff like that. Or favors for on the battlefield, like 'I'll put a dispenser wherever you want it,' or, 'I'll get you an ammo crate,' or—"

"I'LL BRING YA THE HEAD O' YER ENEMY OR DIE TWENNY TIMES TRYIN'!" Demo yelled with a belly laugh. "That one's a win-win."

"That one's not worth much, 'cause he's always choppin' off heads anyways."

“Alright,” you laughed, “I’m in.”


	4. IOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack plays some poker with the fellas. Then she finally goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to figure out as best I could how to play poker in order to write this, so I'm sorry if I got anything wrong!  
> For my fellow non-poker-understanderers, the goal is to be able to make the best combination of cards using the two in your hand and three of the five "community cards," or at least bluff your way to victory.

While you scribbled down an IOU for four sandwiches, Scout rolled two Bonks onto the table as the starting bet. He sat back smugly in his chair as though he had a winning hand although nobody at the table had seen their cards yet. Spy raised him, scooping up six Bonks from under the table. “As good a time as ever to rid myself of zese,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes,” Heavy agreed, “Scout, only two other people at table would ever drink these. Please bet something else next time.”

“Come on, guys! You won’t take any of my weapons eider—”

“Fish is not weapon.”

“Yeah, if you don’t got any skill wid it. But it’s a real powah play. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be killed wid a _fish_?”

“Almost as humiliating as swinging fish around on battlefield, I am sure.”

The table burst out laughing, and now that the first two bets were placed it was time for everybody to look at their hand. You held off for a second, opting to watch everybody else’s reactions. Spy betrayed no emotion, as to be expected, but a grimace flickered across Heavy’s face. Engineer had the same idea as you, and you made eye contact (presumably; it was hard to tell with him.) You jumped a little, as though you were caught cheating, even though he was doing the same thing. A smirk spread across his face while you recalled the mechanical wonders you found in the workshop with Soldier. Could he be their architect? Demo picked his cards up and was squinting at them, while Scout groaned in disappointment.

“Ah come on, dat was a waste of two poifectly good Bonks.”

Heavy picked seven Bonks up from under his seat. “Scout, I will give you Bonks back. I do not want. Please just promise that you will stop betting with them.” During the transaction, you glanced at your cards and saw a Queen of Hearts and 10 of Spades. There was a chance that you could end up with a Straight (five sequential cards,) which was nothing to sneeze at.

He weighed the options before accepting Heavy’s offer. Then it was your turn, so you slid the paper to the middle of the table. Demo tossed some poker chips into the middle. “Twenty-five dollars,” he said, mid-snore. The high opening bet reminded you just how much money you would be making here… or at least, how much you’d be getting once your employer trusted you. Heavy and the Engineer called, tossing in the same amount of chips.

The Texan's expression was unreadable, since half of it was masked. Right away he revealed the top three cards from the deck: a Jack of Spades, a Jack of Clubs, and an 8 of Diamonds. A pair of face cards right off the bat was rare, but with the 8 you were already so close to a straight.

Scout immediately folded. Spy called. “Are there watch shifts here?” you asked.

“Yeah. Pyro and Sniper are on theirs right now,” Engineer replied.

You scrawled on another piece of paper that you would take over someone’s shift. The table seemed to consider your move to be raising the stakes dramatically, and eyes went wide.

Demo tossed fifty dollars’ worth of chips in, along with a note reading “1 enemy head.”

Heavy, Spy, and Engineer all matched your bet, contributing $100 each. Their quick evaluations of the abstract bets was kind of funny. They must have had a whole economy worked out. The next card was flipped over, a 9 of diamonds. With one more card to go, you already had a straight of Queen through 8.

“How long do the battles typically last?” you asked the table.

“’Bout ten ta fifteen minutes,” the Engineer answered, “We fight around three of ‘em a day.”

With a grin you scrawled your next IOU and placed it in the center, reading it out loud as you did. “Five minutes of uninterrupted help on the battlefield. I can fetch ammo for you, give you some covering fire, whatever you need.”

Demo folded right away. “Ya’ve either got two more Jacks or nerves of steel, lass, ‘cause I’ve never seen someone bet some’in’ like that. Either way, I look forward to choppin’ off that head fer ya.”

Heavy considered it but also folded. The Engineer smiled, definitely evilly this time, and said three words that utterly confused you. “One Rancho Relaxo.” You and Spy were the only ones that didn’t gasp. You looked around at them in utter confusion. “One of my recent inventions,” he explained, “A portable lawn chair/cooler that sets itself up fer ya.”

“Words cannot do it justice,” Demo mumbled.

Spy reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out an engraved silver gun and set it gently on top of the mess of chips, Bonks, and IOU’s. It glistened under the cheap fluorescent lighting… it was a piece of utmost craftsmanship… and the woman portrayed in its engravings was very hot. You were itching to get your hands on it.

“Alrighty then,” the Texan said as he flipped over the last card: a 5 of Hearts. It didn’t help you in any way, but you weren’t going to give up the chance to get your hands on that gun.

“Frankly,” mumbled Spy, “I am offended zat you consider ze Ambassador to have ze same value as a glorified folding chair, but so be it.”

You were out of ideas, and Demo suggested that you could go on a beer or grocery run in place of the winner. You wrote both down and tossed it in. When you looked up, you saw that both your opponents were staring you down, one deadpan from one behind tinted goggles and the other with a cocked eyebrow and an almost amused expression. Almost instantly you cracked, staring down at your cards. The room had gone silent. You peeked back up and saw the Engineer evaluating Spy, who smiled innocently back.

“What in Sam Hill am I thinkin’?” he suddenly laughed, “You lie fer a livin’, and I was half convinced this wasn’t a bluff.” He tossed $200 into the pot. “Go ahead and raise, pretty boy, I could use another one o’ yer fancy guns.”

“I would if it would not furzher inconvenience Jacqueline. If she doesn’t win zhis she will be working over time for anozher month.” He added another $200.

You turned over your cards, revealing that you had a straight. Engineer held a King and 6 of diamonds, giving him a flush, which ranked one better than your straight. With a dramatic flourish and insufferable grin, Spy flipped his hand over. He had a third Jack as well as a second 9, giving him a full house and winning him the round. His first priority was snapping up the Ambassador and replacing it in his coat pocket. His second was to roll all the cans of Bonk back to Scout. “Honesty is ze best policy, is it not?” The mercs went wild and you dropped your head to the table, rather embarrassed.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!” Spy's rival shouted, slamming the poker table with his fist.

“Mademoiselle,” Spy whispered to you under the racket, “You do not need to follow up on any of zese papers.” He took his lighter out and held the IOUs above it.

“No!” you yelled, swiping the papers away from the flame, “I’m a merc of my word. I knew what I was getting myself into.” He put out the light and you handed them back, your fingers brushing his in a way that sent a jolt up your spine.

“Yooo!” Scout exclaimed, “I just thought of sometin’ I could bet!” He sprinted out of the room at an incredible speed only made possible by a string of spiked Bonks.

As some of the others stood to grab snacks and such, you circled over to the other side of the table towards the Engineer. “Hi, Engineer—”

“Just Engie’s fine.”

“Hi, Engie, when I was wrangling Lt. Bites, I saw some _brilliant_ machines in this workshop—”

“Those’re mine, if that’s what yer askin’.” His face lit up and he was no longer intimidating and evil, but nerdy and proud.

“How?! How. Just, how?”

“How what?” he laughed.

“How _any_ of it? If they work—”

“They most certainly do—”

“—They’re absolutely miraculous!”

“Aw, I wouldn’t say _miraculous_.”

“Teleportation’s not miraculous?”

“Alright, you might have a point.”

“How does it work?”

“You actually wanna know?”

“Who wouldn’t?! Don’t tell me nobody’s asked that before.”

“None o’ the other fellas. They just sorta… take the technology for granted.”

“That’s ludicrous. It’s _telepor-goddamn-tation_. Would you tell me how it works?”

“Sure!” His smile spread across his face. “I mean— I can’t really get into it all here, but basically it relies on—”

Scout burst into the room with something in his hand. “Do youse guys accept hats?”

“Of course,” Heavy sighed in relief, “Tank you for not bringing something ridiculous.”

“Do youse guys accept… _unusual_ hats?” He tossed a plain looking bowler hat on the table.

Heavy stared at it incredulously. “Scout, what are you talking about? It is not unusual.”

“Bum— ba dum. Bum— ba dum,” Scout sang, swinging his arms side to side and swaying his hips. You recognized his acapella as the beginning of “It’s Not Unusual,” and sure enough, he pulled a Tom Jones action figure out of his pocket. The room exploded with laughter and frustration at the pun, and you couldn’t help but mimic Scout’s ridiculous dance. “It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone,” the two of you harmonized in joyful but cacophonous impressions of Jones.

Only a few lines into the song, Soldier stormed through in Scout’s wake. “Jack, Medic wants to make sure you’re still alive and that you don’t have rabbits.”

“Rabbits?”

“He thinks Lt. Bites might have given one of us rabbits.”

“Ooohhh. Thanks, Jane.” You turned around and kept dancing backwards out the door. “I think I’m gonna call it a night after that. Was nice meeting you all!”

Everybody in the common room called out “good nights” as you left. Soldier split off to return to his training and you walked through the dimly lit halls. The corridors made you feel small, and the silence returned all the previous fears to you. You would be _killing_ people tomorrow. You were someone that would _sign up_ for that, someone with a _knack_ for that. And now with a cleared mind you had to step back and ask… _why?_

You peeked through the ajar Medbay door to see Medic with his back to you petting a dove perched on his finger. You didn’t want to interrupt this unexpected moment so you stood there for a few moments watching the bird snuggle against his hand.

“Vell, are you just going to stand zere?” he asked with his back still turned.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t want to scare away the bird.”

“Do not vorry, Archimedes is no coward. Isn’t zat right?” he asked Archimedes in a high baby-talking voice as he set the bird on a medical contraption. “Anyvays, you just need a preventative vaccine and you'll be on your vay. I encourage you to get some rest tonight, as your body likely still needs to catch up vis all ze… adjustments I have made.” He picked up a vaccine and you sat on the gurney you first woke up on, rolling up your sleeve and trying to seem tough.

Sitting there again something occurred to you. “Dr. Ludwig?”

“Ja?” he asked, wiping your shoulder with disinfectant.

“Would you happen to have my previous heart lying around somewhere here?”

“Bits and pieces of it are lying around somewhere, sure,” he said while administering the vaccine.

“…Could I have them?”

He started to laugh as he bandaged you. “How sentimental of you. Ja, zey’re in zat trash can over zere. Let me just heal up zese scratches first.”

You sifted through the garbage finding chunks of what you assumed to be chunks of heart. Medic came over with a jar full of preservative to plop the remnants into. You said a quick thanks and he pointed you towards the sleeping quarters. Stumbling into your designated room you saw that it was pretty bare but not that bad. You set the heart down on your nightstand, fell onto your bed, opened your employer’s debriefing file, and read up on maps, your responsibilities, and the other classes until you passed out in your clothes, the folder falling over your face. The last thing you thought before drifting off wasn't about the next day of battle, but about how the heart you were sleeping next to was not truly your own.


	5. Bright and Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets up. The team heads out to their first mission as a 10 member unit.

“Mercenaries,” an old woman’s voice loudly called over the crackling PA system installed in your room, “It is 0600 hours. Be ready for deployment by 0700.”

You rolled over to smack the snooze button on your alarm, but your hand only hit a cold jar. Confused, you peeled open your unwilling eyes to examine this weird clock. It was a jar filled with liquid, and at the bottom drifted some crimson chunks of meat. _What is this junk?_

Suddenly, you remembered that it was _your own heart._ You let out a blood-curdling scream, and as you did last night’s series of events became clearer but no less horrifying. You were a _mercenary_ , you were missing an _organ and a half_ , you were about to be killing people in _half an hour_ , you had no idea who ‘you’ _were_ , and it was _6 AM_.

“HUAHHHHHH!” Soldier screamed from a nearby room, in a battlecry more enthusiastic than yours.

“Jack,” Demo groaned from somewhere else, “I don’t think you were hired as an extra alarm clock.”

“S-sorry…” you tentatively got out of bed, hoping that this itself was a dream. Papers were scattered all around your bed. For the first time you took in the bedroom you’d be living in for Lord knows how long. The walls were beige, the closet was full of duplicates of the outfit you slept in, and the only two pieces of furniture in the room were your modest twin sized bed and shabby nightstand. You couldn’t imagine getting used to such depressing quarters.

Feeling gross, you decided to take a shower. You grabbed a sleek red top and baggy pair of light brown cargo pants as well as some toiletries and a towel from the closet. As you stepped into the hall you realized you had no idea where the bathrooms were.

Pyro passed you in the hall in the same mask as yesterday, but with red pajamas with a fire pattern and fluffy red mittens. “Hey Pyro,” you asked, “Where’s the showers?”

Pyro mumbled and waved for you to follow them. At the end of the corridor, there was a communal bathroom. While your companion strolled in, you paused. Maybe you could just… not shower for the rest of your life?

Spy stepped out of one of the bedrooms. He wore a satin red robe and the balaclava you saw yesterday. “Hey, um, Spy— the shower situation in there, is it…?”

“We do not shower in ze open like prisoners. Zere are three stalls with curtains, but I understand your concern. Nobody could judge you for going a day without, since you have obviously been put in an uncomfortable situation.”

But you could smell yourself and feel the grime on your skin. There was dried sweat all over you, not to mention the lingering blood drawn by a certain Lieutenant and the odors of whatever Medic used during your operations. “No, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

You entered a bathroom that was about as grungy as you’d expect. There was mold growing up the shower curtains to varying degrees, and each one was drawn and occupied. You sat on the bench opposite the showers, waiting for a vacancy to appear and feeling utterly out of place while listening to Demo’s bitter yet beautiful rendition of “What Do We Do With a Drunken Sailor?”

One of the showers shut off and you collected your things, ready to jump in. Engie stepped out with a towel around his waist. Of course. You had forgotten that part of a shower opening up would be somebody coming out half naked. And it was some _body_ indeed. Unconsciously your eyes darted right from his begoggled face to his strong chest and torso, which was muscled but not sharply defined; he certainly had the body of a working man.

“Oh,” he said as his eyebrows shot up in surprise, obviously just as flustered as you, “G’mornin’, Jackie.”

“Morning Engie.” You willed your eyes back to his face but knew you were already blushing like crazy. Soon as he was out of the way you ducked into the stall to hide your reaction. But your eye was caught again when through a small gap in the curtain you saw the way his muscular back moved as he started shaving at one of the sinks. _What right does a scientist have to be looking like_ that _?_ You were so distracted that you almost forgot to wonder why the hell he was wearing goggles before he put on anything else.

Deciding that the new amnesiac Jack would not be a perverse invader of privacy, you continued to your own shower. You hurried through it, a little disappointed to find that the toiletries given to you were rather male-targeted, and the shower ended with you smelling like sandalwood and lumberjacks. However, you smelled like a _sexy_ lumberjack, one that could probably mess people up on a battlefield with a chainsaw and get paid a lot of money to do it. _Yeah_ , you thought to yourself as you dressed and brushed your teeth, _I’m a sexy lumberjack._ The thought replayed itself over and over, pumping you up for the day ahead.

You strode out of the bathroom with confidence but immediately bumped into Sniper, scattering his shower supplies over the linoleum. “Dammit! Sorry Sniper.” You crouched down to pick up his stuff real quick. “ _I’m a sexy lumberjack, I’m a sexy lumberjack_ ,” you whispered under your breath, trying to recollect scraps of the moxie you had only a moment ago.

“No problem, mate, but what’s that you just said?”

“Uh… ‘You’re ready for the mission, Jack.’ Was just trying to psych myself up for the battle.”

“You sure it wasn’t something about being a lumberjack?” You stood and dropped his things in his arms with a glower as you saw his expression of confusion break into one of no-fucking-way. Still, coming face to face with him in the light was… interesting. He had a dark five o’clock shadow and no hat to hide behind, and his piercing blue eyes caught the light in a suddenly mischievous way.

You walked right past him, ignoring his comment and thinking to yourself again, _This is fine, everything’s fine, I am a sexy lumberjack._

“See you on the battlefield, sexy lumberjack,” he said under his breath as you passed.

 _Oh, geez. Oh, God. Of course._ You walked down the hall as though none of that happened and mentally slapped yourself in the face. There were greater concerns than this new development, however, since your stomach was rumbling loudly. Pyro happened to be coming towards you with a stack of pancakes in hand. “Pyro, where’d you get that?”

Pyro pointed in the direction they came from and indicated that you turn right after Demo’s room.

After thanking Pyro, you followed their directions to the mess hall, where some of your teammates were milling about munching. You could make waffles, toast, sausage—eh, who were you kidding. You needed to eat _now_ , no time for cooking. A box of Lucky Charms grabbed your eye, and you poured a bowl, beginning to devour it even as you were still pouring the milk in. Soldier and Demo were also burning through a box of Frosted Flakes, and Soldier waved you over.

“Good morning!” he greeted you quickly between spoonfuls.

“How’s Lieutenant Bites?” you asked as you poured more cereal into your bowl.

“I taught him to attack blue things, but he still attacks red things just as much.”

“Well, that’s progress!”

“Solly really thought his raccoon’d be the tenth class,” Demo added, “I’m surprised he’s not been mad at ya for takin’ his spot.”

“Jack bested both me and Bites in one-on-one combat, so she deserves it. And we found out we’re related too.” He gave you a big smile and a thumbs up, and he was so happy to have found his long lost relative that you couldn’t bring yourself to say otherwise.

Demo paused and looked between the two of you, rubbing his eye and searching for the resemblance. “Ohhh, Jane Doe and Jack Doe! Well, any family o’ Soldier’s is family o’ mine.” He reached over the table to tousle your still wet hair. As he sat down he pulled out a shot glass and put some cereal in it, then took out a bottle of milky rumchata and filled it up the rest of the way. “Want one?” he asked you, producing another shot glass out of nowhere.

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

While he downed the shot, you decided to ask about the people you would be fighting today.

“Those maggots?” Soldier grumbled, “They’re nothing but target practice.”

“They’ll look lot like us,” Demo explained, “The devil who owns their team had someone hack into our respawn somehow and figure out how to make copies, of… well, us. Don’t worry about it, though, they don’t feel any pain and they come back as quick as they die.”

This news was sickening. _I have to fight clones of the people who are supposed to be my friends?_

“You’ll get used to it, lass. Some scrumpy might help ya think about it less.” He picked up another bottle of booze and offered it to you compassionately.

“Thanks, but I think I should stay sober today.”

After your third bowl of cereal you realized there wasn’t much time left until deployment, so you grabbed an apple and ran back to your room to get the one worn shotgun your employers provided you. Holding it, you still weren’t sure you were as much of a master with it as that mysterious woman seemed to believe. It felt rather familiar, yes, but it didn’t feel like your life’s work.

“Hey Jack,” Scout called into your room while running in place and double fisting Bonks, “Do you know where you’re goin’?”

“Not one bit. Would you give me directions?”

“Yeah, dude, no problem.” He took off and you ran after him at what felt like half his speed; once he got bored of waiting for you at turns he started running literal circles around you as you made your way to wherever it was you were going. The two of you rounded a corner and met up with the others waiting outside a room that was glowing red like your new heart.

“Guten Morgen, Jack,” Medic greeted you while injecting something into a smiling Soldier’s arm, “Care for some steroids?”

“Um, not today, thanks.”

“Oh, oh! Could I have hers?” Scout begged.

While all that was happening, you felt drawn to the glowing room and peeked inside. The source of the light was a wall on the right side of the room, which was powerfully red and seemed to have a sliding door on it with no handle. It illuminated dozens and dozens of inert teleporters, which were organized in a grid and labelled with strange names, like Gravel Pit and Hightower. One of them in the back lit up at the ends and started spinning, accelerating until the lights looked like a solid disk.

“Where do we go today?” Heavy asked you once he spotted the whirring device.

You craned your neck to read the active teleporter’s label. “Dustbowl?” Some of the mercs grumbled in disappointment. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It is as sounds: a bowl of dust.”

You were about to ask how to use the teleporter when Scout dashed past you and leaped onto it, landing on its arms balanced like a surfer. After whirling around a couple times he disappeared in a flash of light.

Soldier marched through and planted his feet on the slowing device, saluting you as it sped up and whisked him away too. It certainly looked scary, but hell, if everybody else was doing it it couldn’t be too dangerous. _Best to go while I still have this confidence._

You carefully stepped over the inactive ones towards the Dustbowl entrance, then put your feet over its lights and held your breath as it began speeding up. _Whirr whirr whirr_ —until _thud!_ it sent you to the floor face first. You ignored the snickers coming from the door as you got up and tried again— _thwomp!_ — with the same results.

“Uh, try keepin’ your feet closer together, Jackie,” Engie suggested. You must look like such a dumbass to him.

“Ve do not have time for zis,” Medic complained as he walked over and picked you up. He stepped onto the teleporter and stayed balanced like it was nothing. Despite being so curious about how the teleporter worked, all you could think about the strong arms around you and the warm chest against you. You got dizzy before being blinded by a flash of light. Suddenly, Medic was setting you down again as you rubbed your eyes.

“Sorry,” you awkwardly laughed, rubbing your neck.

“Don’t vorry, it is difficult at first.” Medic walked to a wide metal locker with his class symbol on it and opened it. The other two were doing the same and taking out all manner of weapons. A quick scan of the rest of the lockers determined that there wasn’t one matching your question mark. Your shotgun felt even less formidable now.

Engie was the next through, and he retrieved a large metal toolbox from his locker and immediately ran out the garage-like door and threw it on the ground. “Hey, Jackie,” he asked as he went back to grab another box, “Would you mind upgradin’ that teleporter to Level 3 while I start settin’ up at the point? There’s a wrench and some parts in that general supply closet.”

“Sure!” You grabbed them as he ran off and waited for the machine to unfurl. Luckily you studied up on these buildings last night, so you knew the basics of how to upgrade one. Once it was up and running, you decided you ought to test it out. You stood with your feet closer to the center and squeezed your eyes shut until you heard the flash and stepped off, successful but dizzy. You stumbled away in a zigzag line.

“Whoa there, Jackie,” a Texan voice chided you as you toppled into Engie. The world was still spinning and you were falling down, so you instinctively hugged on to his waist. “Thanks for— thanks for fixin’ up the teleporter, that was a real help.” You clung onto his overalls and he hooked an arm under yours to hoist you up. As you could tell in the bathroom earlier, he was strong as hell. Perhaps you wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a little while longer.

“Sorry, Engie, maybe I should sit down.”

“It’s quite alright,” he said red-faced, “It takes everybody some time to get used to it. But while you’re sittin’, would you mind help upgrading that dispenser too?”

He tossed you some parts and you set to work again. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him working on the sentry gun twice as fast as you, wrench flying all over the place. The two machines and yourself were tucked away between a cliff face and a run down barn.

“Well, I didn’t know our resident lumberjack worked with metal too,” Sniper teased quietly, startling you. He was leaning on the dispenser you were fixing, infuriatingly cockier than yesterday.

“Please do NOT,” you snapped, finding something to fiddle with on the machine that hid your embarrassed face from the tall marksman.

“Alright, I’ll stop if you tell me what makes you a sexy lumberjack. I mean, half of it I get.” You hid your blushing face more, if that was even possible. “You definitely seem like the lumberjack type to me.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. “Okay, it’s just that the men’s soap I had to use made me smell like what I imagine a sexy lumberjack would smell like. The thought gave me some much needed confidence so I rolled with it.”

“Mate, you know pretty much all of us smell like that, right?”

“Then let’s saw some motherfucking BLUs in half, shall we?” you retorted immediately, dodging the implied question.

“That’s the spirit!” he cheered. Your earpieces informed you that there were only 30 seconds left until the BLUs arrived. “I’d love to chat some more, but I should be finding a nice quiet spot that’s good for blowing up heads.”

As you waved goodbye to Sniper and finished upgrading the dispenser, you realized you should be getting into position too. Inside the barn and next to the control point there was a nice spot you could duck in next to the doorframe.

“Care for a cigarette?” Spy suddenly asked you. He stepped out from under the rickety staircase, a shimmering transparent field around him in the guise of a BLU Demo.

“No thanks, don’t want to be distracted.” The guide you read last night didn’t really convince you that the cloaking technology used by the Spies was very, well, convincing. But if your enemy had the same abilities, you couldn’t trust anyone. As you settled into place, you gravitated towards Spy. Being around him made you think that there was a chance that this would all shake out okay.

The old woman’s voice crackled over the earpiece again. “ _Mission begins in 3. 2. 1._ ”

Sirens blared. You held tight to your shotgun. You were not ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some more SFM! It's kinda shitty but oh well I'll figure it out eventually. The lovely Gretschdoll helped edit this one ty bb. It's when Sniper gives you a hard time about being the sexy lumberjack that you are!  
> 


	6. What the hell did you sign up for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets creative on the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey heads up this is quite violent. I don't go into much detail, and it's basically a regular game of TF2, except bodies don't despawn.  
> Also, warning for canon typical temporary character death (???) and temporary reader death (???)

The click from cocking your shotgun was somehow familiar and comforting, like the smell of a grandparent’s house or the opening note of a favorite song. You were rather disturbed by how satisfying you found it, that a gun in your hand was the most welcoming thing you could imagine—but there wasn’t any time for that now.

“Good morning, team, Pauling here,” a familiar voice spoke in your earpiece. “You’ll need to hold this point for seven minutes. Oh, and welcome onboard Jack!” She sounded so chipper, so unlike the curt mysterious woman who threw a debrief at you and ran off into the night.

You peered out the door and saw identical clones of your newfound friends pouring out of the mines. Soldier, Medic, and Pyro were approaching the barn, and a horrifying question reared its ugly head: which were you most comfortable murdering?

Well, Soldier was the closest. You shot a round at him and he fired a rocket back at you; you ducked behind the wall as it whizzed past you and exploded against the far wall. You stuck your head out again and fired two more blasts. “The Medic!” Engie yelled to you as he upgraded his sentry gun, “Get the Medic!”

You gulped. Strategically, it made sense, but… for some reason you hesitated. And that was enough for you to catch a bullet in the shoulder; a bullet that unmistakably matched the one fired at you the previous night. Knowing that the few feet to the medical supply was too risky right now, you covered again and kneeled on the stairs, reloading your gun.

Your Sniper came running through the entry, blood trickling down his forehead. “Move, sheila,” he grunted through the pain, “I need higher ground.”

But how come he came through that door? “Why?”

“Just move, dammit!” You stood up, blocking his path. Engie’s sentry was up there. It was worth the hassle to check.

“What am I?”

“The Jack of all—” With that, you unloaded your shotgun into his chest. The BLU Spy’s disguise fizzled away and his knife laid at your feet.

“I’m a sexy lumberjack, bitch,” you said as you picked up your new weapon.

Pauling came over the earpiece. “BLU Spy down. Good eye, Jack! Get it—like, good eye, but also g’day, because he was— never mind. Nicely done.” Her cute voice and awkwardly executed pun made your heart swell. She went on to recount other kills and deaths going on around you. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Demo toss Scout a pill grenade, which he hit with his bat at an incoming Pyro.

Returning to your post, you shot the Medic, now joined by his team’s Heavy. They were advancing quickly, and you knew your shots weren’t much more than an annoyance to them. But now you had another option. While their attention was turned towards your allies in the pit next to them, you dipped into the small corner on the other side of the door and secured the butterfly knife in your sweaty grip. Your shoulder was seized with pain, but the whirr of Heavy’s machine gun was approaching.

He came in firing at your previous spot and you plunged the knife into his back and without even waiting for his body to hit the floor, you switched back to your gun and shot at the retreating Medic. You looked away as he was picked off by Engie’s sentry gun.

Two corpses and a minigun lay at your feet. _Would it be too barbaric to turn them into a barricade?_ Your already moving body brushed the thought aside as you dragged them across the entrance. You propped up the minigun over the human shield and began firing from a crouch at the encroaching team and you realized: whoever you were, you were someone who did whatever it takes to survive.

And then you were on fire. You caught only a glimpse of the enemy Pyro as every inch of you burned and burned, reality growing fuzzy around you until it stopped hurting. The pain in your shoulder was gone too. A push from behind and you stumbled forward onto the floor. You pried open your eyes and the dim red light of the room was enough to hurt them. In front of you in this empty room laid dozens of mostly inert teleporters. Behind you was the red wall from before; it must be respawn. You must have died. It was just like nodding off and jolting awake. Looking at your hands you thought, _Wait, am I a clone?_

There wasn’t time for such philosophical conundrums. You gathered your bearings and got on the Dustbowl teleport with nothing but a shoddy shotgun. Then you took the one you upgraded to the front lines, leaving your head spinning. RED Soldier came flying by you, propelled by an explosion, and there was a sickening _crunch_ as he landed.

“Hi Jack,” he greeted you in a choked yet casual voice, weakly handing you his RPG, “Avenge me.” As you lifted the weapon onto your shoulder his head hit the thick dust. You leapt into the barn and saw the Pyro, instantly firing two rockets at their torso. When they blew up they dropped a flamethrower that, despite all the gore around you, you were still childishly excited to try out. Knowing that the minigun was a better option right now, you tucked the flamethrower under the stairs and got back to your spot. The minigun was incredibly heavy and difficult to maneuver as you scattered bullets against your enemies, sustaining shrapnel from their dwindling fire until it died out completely.

Engie came down the steps, shotgun in hand. “Dammit, looks like they’re coordinatin’ a push.”

An idea struck you as you turned back to the flamethrower. “Hold on, I’m gonna try blinding them.” You lifted the flamethrower and dipped behind a boulder close to BLU spawn. If this didn’t work, you would probably be the laughingstock of the whole team. But if it did…

Sure enough, BLUs came out of spawn guns a-blazing, giving away their exact location as they approached. You released your weapon’s airblast into the thick red dust in front of their feet, kicking up a dense cloud, then switched to fire. Several blind shots rattled your body as you swept in front of the attackers to set them alight. Their silhouettes were outlined by flame and gave your team enough visibility to fuck them up. BLU Demo charged out of the dust towards you but fell immediately to a shot from your Sniper. As you jumped down to the center level you gave a thumbs up in his general direction.

“Hey— hey, Jack,” Ms. Pauling started, “That seems… kinda against the—well, I guess there aren’t any rules. Carry on.” You repeated the airblast/flamethrowing combo down below, but too many bullets were biting you, and you knew you were on the hazy brink of death again.

Red light surrounded you.

“Ingenious!” Medic called down to you, healing you with a portable version of his med bay equipment. Small pieces of shrapnel fell out of you as your body rapidly regenerated.

You thanked him and ran back up the hill. Looking back you saw the last of the charging BLUS get picked off by your teammates. The sight was still sickening to you.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Scout yelled to you.

Demo and Soldier had started a Conga in the temporary quiet. “Come on, hop in!” the Scotsman laughed. But you weren’t particularly proud of what you’d done. Dancing right now seemed... wrong. The Tom Jones action figure tied to his sticky jumper couldn’t even make you smile.

“Thanks, but I’m gonna heal up a bit more.” You returned to the dispenser.

“Oi, Jack,” Sniper called from somewhere. You glanced around and didn’t see the sharpshooter anywhere. “Up here!” You looked up to see him hanging over the edge of the roof just as his slouch hat fell and landed on your upturned face.

“This is mine now,” you announced as you moved it to your head.

“Sorry, mate. But it does suit you better than me.” He bore a goofy lopsided smile.

“Thanks for getting that Demo, by the way.”

“Thanks for making it so easy. And uh, would you mind passing me some ammo? I can’t really get down.” Being a good teammate, you filled his hat with fistfuls of .726 calibers. As you were about to return it to him, his sunglasses smacked you on the head.

“Sorry again!” The last vestiges of his pride from the sexy lumberjack debacle vanished and he grew embarrassed as you handed him his ammo.

“I was joking before, but these _are_ mine now.” You donned the glasses and returned to your post. For a couple minutes you mowed down more blues and tried not to get too conflicted about it. Then something interposed between you and the unrelenting New Mexican sun, and before you quite registered the form of the shovel-bearing Soldier, you were dumped back into the respawn room on your hands and knees.

“Ah, Jacqueline,” Spy said above you as he extended a gloved hand, “Zhat was some quick zhinking with ze flamethrower.” You thanked him as he lifted you to your feet. “It is refreshing to fight alongside someone so intelligent. And ladies first, of course.”

You stepped onto the teleporter, hearing Ms. Pauling as soon as you arrived. “—on the point, they’re on the point!” You cocked your shotgun as you boarded the next tele, but as soon as you stumbled off that one she was in your ear again. “Clutch play, Engie.”

“Hey, Jackie,” he said nonchalantly as he climbed back up the steps and wiped the BLU Soldier’s blood from his wrench, “I figured your barricade could use a higher wall.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.” A crash came from outside as Sniper’s rifle slid off the roof. You winced, knowing what happened to him, but reached out to retrieve the gun anyways. Your arm was pierced by another familiar .726. You knew that you had to avenge Sniper by sniping… Sniper. God, this must be the weirdest job you’ve ever had. After grabbing some bullets and patching up your arm a little, you looked down the scope and had their Heavy in your crosshairs. Wasn’t what you were going for, but you’d take it. You pulled the trigger, but it was a whiff. You awkwardly reloaded the thing and took another shot. It was too the stomach, but it did the trick.

Pauling congratulated you as you looked around for your target. Ah, there he was, the bastard, tucked in a shed. As soon as you locked your scope onto him he was aiming right back at you. There wasn’t a clear shot lined up, he was hiding behind his gun too much. If he fired at you, the recoil should expose enough of him to give you a better chance. But how to coax him into firing…

 _Fuck it_ , you thought as you took a deep breath and went with the first idea to pop into your head. You stuck your non-trigger hand into the air and flipped him the bird. Pain shot through your hand and you instantly took the shot.

“BLU Sniper down! Please tell me someone else saw that!” Miss Pauling cheered in your earpiece. But she quickly had to move onto other deaths, as your team was being forced back in the middle of the field. You threw some medicine on the stump where your middle finger used to be and dashed out of the barn. There was only one more minute left in the mission, but the REDs were getting picked off one by one.

Medic’s medigun crackled with electricity: an uber was ready. You sighed in relief while you fired shotgun shells into the enemy team, only to spot _yourself_ approaching the doctor from behind. “That’s not me!” you cried, drowned out by the chaos around you, “Dr. Ludwig, that’s not me!” You sprinted towards the backline, but not fast enough as “you” were already breathing down your Medic’s neck.

A bang rang out behind you and the Spy crumpled to the ground, no longer bearing your face. As Medic activated Ubercharge and turned the tides, you spun around to see Sniper, red traces of teleportation at his feet, tip his hat to you.

“BLU Spy down,” Pauling said, “It looks like Jack has some competition in terms of sniping. Also BLU Pyro, Demo, and Scout down. Keep it up Heavy!”

“What’s this about you sniping then?” the marksman asked as he raised his gun to his stubbled cheek.

“I got revenge on the enemy Sniper for you,” you explained while loading a dropped RPG, “It cost me a finger though.” You wiggled your fingers around as best you could. Your hand was numb from the medicine but it still stung.

“You… went after him for me?” His voice and face were as level as his aim.

“Well, yeah. Is that not something people do around here?” Your rockets were landing true on the retreating team.

“It is, but nobody’s done it on my behalf.” There was a bit of silence as neither of you knew what to say. You did notice, however, that none of Sniper’s shots seemed to be connecting with any heads. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime, Snipes.”

You just realized that the old woman on the loud speakers had just finished a countdown. “Victory,” she hissed.

“This here’s the best part! You comin’, Jack?” Sniper asked as he started towards BLU spawn.

“Sure!” You ran after him, not knowing what he referred to. As you approached you witnessed your teammates gleefully shooting the remaining BLU combatants, whose guns had somehow stopped functioning. You turned away instantly, disgusted by the carnage wreaked upon the surrendering rivals. It hit you then how fucked up these past minutes were. You had hunkered down behind a pile of corpses. You killed copies of your new friends and they killed you in turn. You witnessed your teammates die in horrific ways. You set people on _fire_ and burnt to a crisp yourself. And you probably weren’t even _you_ — you were now a clone twice revivified. Did the real you die five minutes ago? Or did they die yesterday, when they signed up for this job and were turned into a nameless shell?

You couldn’t keep a lid on it anymore. You ran back to spawn, salty tears evaporating on the New Mexican sand below your feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time to see if I'll ever post an update at a decent hour!


	7. Deep Breaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack calms down with some help. She makes a new fluffy friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write in accents for this chapter, since it seemed kind of distracting. If you think I should go back and put them in, please tell me in the comments :)  
> Also my characterization of a certain merc is a little unorthodox, but it's just a sort of headcanon I like for him. If it seems off I guess I could go back and change it too.

You dashed off the teleporter in respawn, tripping over the grid of machines in your way. Where should you even go? Not even your barren room felt very comforting. Outside, perhaps? The harsh sun and red dust hadn’t offered you any refuge either. There had to be some place here where you could curl up into a ball and die.

You wove through the building until you reached a dead end at the end of a dark hallway. Your face was hot and your chest pounding so hard it hurt; your lungs were unable to draw in much air and it felt as though you were about to suffocate. _Where do I go? Where do I go?_

It was too much. It was too fucking much. You were so far past your limit. You let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell to your knees.

“Oh,” someone said, “It’s just you.” From the floor you saw that Medic had snuck up behind you with an enormous bonesaw. You screamed again, backing up and pressing yourself into a corner. The doctor flicked on the hall light. “My apologies, I mistook you for an intruder. Are you okay?”

You tried to tell him that, yes, you were okay, but your mouth was so dry and your throat so uncooperative that no words could come out.

He sat down on the other side of the hallway and took a small pad of paper and a pen out of his coat pocket, then slid it across the floor to you. “If you need anything, you can write it out until you’re verbal again. But for now, we should get your breathing in check. Inhale with me, please.” You followed his lead and breathed in as he counted, but your lungs gave out after three seconds and you spiraled again. This is the man who removed your heart and threw it in the garbage like it was _nothing_. The core of you was gone because of _him_. “Good, let’s try again.”

You curled up and faced the wall. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted this all to be over.

“Would you prefer someone else’s assistance? I can fetch them for you.” You didn’t answer. How could any of them understand? They were all hardened killers. “My medbay is close. I need to go get something, but I’ll be right back.” He got up and his footsteps raced down the hallway. What did he need? Anesthetics, so he could put you under and scoop out the rest of your brain?

Before you could get up and run away you heard him returning. _Please, God, if he’s taking out more of my mind, let me die in surgery_.

You flinched as something perched on your arm. “The rest of the team found Pythagoras very comforting when they were in your position, but I could put him back if you wish.” You looked up to see a round and fluffy dove looking down at you inquisitively.

“…This happened to the rest of the team too?” you croaked with great effort.

“Of course. Honestly, many of them were a lot more violent about it than you, so danke for not killing me yet. I’d tell you about their first days on the job but that would be a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. Do you want to sit up and regulate your breathing?” As you slowly got up, Pythagoras hopped over so he was nuzzled against your chest. You followed his lead again and slowed your breathing until you could think a little straighter. “So, what is wrong?”

“Do you want the chronological list or the alphabetical one?” Pythagoras snuggled into your hand, prompting you to stroke his smooth feathers.

“Why don’t you start with the reason you left the battlefield?”

You pet Pythagoras for a few more moments, collecting your scattered, panicked thoughts. “There was no need to slaughter the other team after they lost.”

Medic sighed. This seemed to be something he’d thought about before. “It is a rather unhealthy behavior that I discourage. They want to blow off some steam at the end of the match… and they have become almost psychologically immune to violence. Many of them didn’t participate at first, and some still don’t; so if you want to go somewhere else after a victory nobody would think twice about it.”

“Will I become that numb to it too?”

“I’m afraid so, for better or for worse. This job comes with a steep price. But you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know you could handle it.”

Pythagoras closed his little eyes and began to nap in your arms. “How could I have known? I can’t be the same person who signed up… I’m a completely blank slate now, barely even a person at all.”

“Come now, that’s not true. We will prove otherwise right now.’” He picked up the pad of paper lying on the floor and pocketed the front page (which was illegible aside from the very large note that read RIBS MIGHT GROW BACK”) then wrote on the new sheet ‘Jack.’

“Dr. Ludwig, this is really unnecessary.”

“Nein, I should have done this earlier when you were looking for your heart. Let’s put down a list of things you know about yourself, and then you will realize that you are as much a person as you were before. Now, what do you know about yourself?”

“… That I do what it takes to survive.” A chill ran up your spine at the memory of your automatic reflex to haul those corpses.

“Good!” This started his list. “It sounds like you find this fact unnerving, but it shows that you are dedicated, creative, and resourceful. As does your capture of that racoon, which Scout and Soldier told me all about. What else?”

“…I’m a weapons expert.”

“Very good. Although it sounds as if you take issue with this as well, it proves your intelligence and adaptability. Do you agree with my assessment so far?” There wasn’t really anything you could argue with so you timidly nodded. “Anything else?”

You racked your brain but couldn’t come up with anything.

“I suppose it would be difficult to notice for you, but you’re… hm, how do I put this? You have a very positive presence. Despite your difficult situation, you have left quite an impact on the team in a span of a few hours. Scout, Soldier, and I assume Pyro are ecstatic to have you around, considering that you don’t look down on any of them and were so quick to come to their aid. And Sniper—well, I’ve never seen him say much more than three words to anyone, and the Engineer is dying to talk to you about his science. It seems as though you have not realized your own inherent kindness.”

You pulled Pythagoras tight to your chest as you bashfully glanced at the list and couldn’t help but wonder if he had intentionally left out your effect on him. “Knowing all these things about yourself,” he explained as he neatly removed the paper and handed it to you, “How can you say you’re ‘barely a person’?”

This still didn’t help you come to terms with the trauma out in the field, but… you felt a little more stabilized knowing that you were, well, somebody. You folded the list carefully and tucked it in your pocket. Wishing to stop being the topic of conversation, you moved on, “I never thought you would be much of a therapist.”

“Please, such expertise is required in our unique position. I am just as licensed in mental health as I am in medicine.”

“Really? Which came first for you?”

“Medicine has always been my primary passion. The human frame is endlessly intriguing but is ultimately our greatest limitation… I’ve always aimed to remedy that, but I found along the way that our own minds can be just as restrictive.”

“Huh. I must admit that my first impression of you was that you were a gloomy mad scientist, but that’s a rather admirable pursuit.”

“While I undeniably get carried away in my experiments, my ends always justify my means.”

The pair of you sat next to each other in the hallway for a few silent moments as the panic drained from your mind. You wrapped your arms snugly around the cuddly bird, pondering whether it would be appropriate to ask Medic for a hug too. You had no idea he could be this kind, or that he thought so highly of you. Being against him as he carried you through the teleport and when you first woke up, it had been so comforting and, well, maybe something else…

“Attention mercenaries,” called the old woman over the P.A., “You have forty minutes before your next mission. Meet at respawn at 1000 hours on the dot.”

You drew in a deep breath and wiped the tear streaks from your face as you worked up the will to stand. “Well, I think I’m about ready now. Thank you so much, Dr. Ludwig.”

“You’re welcome, Jack, and you can hold on to Pythagoras until our next battle. And the medbay door is always open if you want to talk.”

You chickened out of asking for that hug as you regained your composure. But it was certainly a relief to know that this oddly comforting bird could stick with you for a little while longer. Medic returned to his medbay while you timidly crept back towards the populated areas of the base.

Scout was the first merc you crossed paths with. He was jogging restlessly down random hallways, looking behind all the doors that opened until he saw you. “Jack, thank God, we was so worried about you!”

“Aw, thanks Scout, but I’m fine. Medic helped me out.”

“Holy crap—” he realized, his eyes practically expanding as he looked at the bird perched on your shoulder, “Is that Pythagorean?”

“Yeah, isn’t he the cutest?” You offered the bird a finger, which he hopped onto, and brought him closer to Scout.

“This little guy helped me through so much,” he whispered as he delicately pet the cooing dove’s head, “For like a month after I got here, I was havin’ real bad insomnia and night terrors. But he always cuddled me until I could fall asleep again. He’s like a tiny flying dog or somethin’.”

As Scout reminisced, “hudda huddas” were approaching from somewhere close by. “Oh, right,” Scout said and turned on his earpiece, “Guys, I found her, she’s fine. She’s got Pythagorean with her! I’m between the armory and the medbay.”

Pyro turned a corner and came running down the hallway with arms wide open. They stopped short, however, remembering something. They cocked their head and mumbled something, seemingly asking you if you were good with a hug.

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” You were swept up and twirled you around like when you first ran into them. They dropped you suddenly, excited to show you something from their pocket. It was two sparklers, both somehow just lit. You took one and Pyro hopped around the hall, mesmerized by the bright stars that jumped from the fire. With a stifled giggle you waved it around in the air, making patterns with its trail of light.

Through the enchanting pyrotechnics you saw Soldier charging towards you three. “JAAAACK! I’m sorry I left you alone after the battle!” Although his words were clearly heartfelt, he wasn’t looking at you because his eyes were glued to your sparkler.

“Do you want this sparkler, Soldier?”

“Yes,” he cheered as you handed it to him, “It’s the Fourth of July on a stick. But I should never have left another Soldier behind.” His attention was still locked on the sparkler, which he used to trace a circle over and over again.

“Well, really, I left you guys. I don’t think you were under any soldierly obligations there.”

“Phew! Thank God, I was about to court martial myself. Let’s do something to cheer you up before the next battle!” As the sparkler was reduced to dull embers, he noticed the bird sitting on Scout’s hat. “Scout, you didn’t tell me Pyramid was here!”

“Yeah I did, dummy. And it’s Py-thag-or-ean, like the triangle.” You half expected a brawl to break out between the two of them over the dove, but Scout gingerly took off his hat and delivered Pythagoras to the newcomer.

“Pygmalion,” Soldier whispered solemnly to the friendly bird in his hands and close to his face, “Listen to me, son: I would die for you. In fact, I promise that one of these days I will take a rocket to the face for you.”

“Hey, speakin’ of rockets to the face—” Scout chimed in, “Why don’t we show Jack how to rocket jump ‘n Force-a-Nature jump ‘n stuff?”

“Scout, you’re a genius,” Soldier said before dashing into the armory with you, again, in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I updated at a decent hour! Don't expect that to happen again.


	8. Time for a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has some fun in the armory and practices her impersonations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no accents written in. If that's too weird pls lmk

The armory held every weapon you could possibly imagine; something in you lit up like a kid in a candy shop. There were rows and rows of big, gnarly guns, knives, explosives launchers, flame throwers of many colors stacked to the lofted concrete ceiling. Soldier scrambled up the rolling ladder to the very top of his assortment of weaponry and yanked out two orange RPGs and threw one down to you. You just barely caught it and examined its bright and rather cheery paint job.

Soldier leapt from the ladder, and your heart skipped a beat as he plummeted. When he was about to hit the ground he shot a rocket at it and bounced back up and landed firmly on his feet. “Ta-da!”

“Holy shit, that’s awesome! You really had me scared for a second.”

“Once you learn how to do this, you will be immune to fear.”

“Sign me up.” This must have been what the enemy Soldier did to kill you at Dustbowl. If you could learn how to do this safely, it would not only be fun but indispensable on the field. Of course, that was if you could do it without shooting your feet off.

In an instant he was rushing you, Pyro (who was now carrying a giant lollipop), and Scout (who was double wielding Force-a-Natures) into the training facilities in the next room over.

“It’s really easy!” Soldier leapt again in a blur of motions you couldn’t really follow. “Just do that.”

You pointed the weapon at the ground and braced yourself for instant death. You hopped up and fired, sailing a few measly feet into the air and flopping down on your ass. Ow.

“You need to crouch more. And also jump more. And aim differently and turn around.”

You tried again to much the same results.

“Just hop on, Private.” Soldier patted his back and held his arms to his sides to offer a piggy back. It seemed like a deadly idea, but death was kind of a non-factor now. You climbed aboard and before you were holding on tight an explosion propelled you close to the vaulted ceiling. Your stomach rose to your throat as you began to descend, but you were soon rocketing upwards again, then heading down, then up, et cetera. You were used to it now and having a lot of fun.

“Hey Soldier, how come we aren’t getting hurt by splash damage?”

“It has to do with photosynthesis or something scientific like that.”

Soldier ran out of ammo after a little and you landed, and your momentum caused you to fall off his back and onto the floor.

“Jack, hey Jack!” Scout called as he started doing his own insane jumps with his gun (and Pythagoras flittered over to Pyro,) “Looka dis. I can carry you too!”

Running the mental calculations, you quickly deduced that the gun’s knockback, not to mention Scout’s own carrying capacity, wouldn’t be enough to sail around the room like Scout could unburdened. “No thanks, I don’t think I can handle much more after all that.”

“Suit yaself.” As he continued flying around everyone, Pyro approached you and offered their enormous lollipop. Cautiously, you took a lick. Strawberry!

“Thanks, Pyro!”

All reloaded, Soldier started jumping again while Scout was still circling the room. Your heart skipped another beat as they missed each other by a hair’s breadth. “Watch it, knucklehead!” Scout cried out in indignation, stumbling in his next jump and rolling across the floor.

“You’re faster, _you_ watch—” Soldier was interrupted by the wall he smacked into. He too fell on his ass. Luckily, he didn’t tumble from too high in the air, so he was relatively okay. He _did_ crash into a clock that read 9:40—and his first concern was that “Shit! Men, we only have 25 minutes to get ready!” As though nothing had happened, he sprung up and was a blur as he fled the room. The other two scattered as well. Not knowing how you could further prepare for a battle (considering you had no weapons of your own and still didn’t know what to expect) you returned to the armory and quietly admired the rows and rows of firearms.

“Bonjour, Jacqueline,” Spy spoke behind you and you jumped. You should probably get used to this man sneaking up on you like that. He now wore an overcoat with a tall popped collar.

“Oh… hello, Spy.” His appearance reminded you of the enemy Spy you killed not an hour ago. It had been a moment of pride for you then, but now it made your skin crawl.

“It sounds as though you are shaken up from the battle,” he observed while carefully perusing his selection of knives.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just had to kill your BLU counterpart and… it was kind of weird.”

“Do not worry, Jacqueline, this is to be expected. No other humans have ever been in circumstances such as ours. It would be much more ‘weird’ if these circumstances did not strike you as unnatural.”

“Did you have similar hangups?”

“Of course. I am not a monster. For some reason, it was especially excruciating to see our Scout out of combat. He is so young, as you know, and somehow through all this he is still naïve and bright-eyed. I grew accustomed to it eventually, perhaps because our Scout is so enthusiastic about killing my BLU reflection. Almost as enthusiastic as their Scout is about killing me.” You peeked over to see his collection of knives and guns. They gleamed in the light, and most of them were so classy and well-crafted. “Know that I consider any victory over a BLU Spy as a favor, not an insult.”

“Like I need to be doing you any extra favors.” You rolled your eyes, bitter about the result of last night’s card game.

“Speaking of favors, I was wondering if you would wish to spend more time in my company.” Your face grew pink. Was he asking you on a date? “As you know, my disguises require me to know the mercenary I impersonate very well. It would be a great help to speak with you more, so that I might quicker learn your speech patterns. Not to mention, I enjoy your conversation.”

You tried to do the math to figure out whether this was a purely professional request or otherwise (honestly, you might prefer the latter.) Noticing your behavior, Spy smiled slightly and raised one of his eyebrows, growing even more smug and debonair somehow. “Certainly. But would this—”

“—Replace one of the favors you granted me last night? Oui. Your choice as to which.”

A lot of those sounded like pains in the ass, so this was perfect. You agreed to meet up at some point this week and parted ways as he took his weapons and you lingered on to examine some of the remaining ones. And maybe… test a few out? There’s no way you could get in trouble for that; after all, you’d be using these on the field at some point anyways.

And in Pyro’s section, there was a particularly gnarly looking flamethrower that called out to you. It had big coils and nasty cage-like metal at the front. The label on its shelf read “Phlogistinator.” You picked it up and pressed the trigger for a split second, watching it puff out a burst of fire. But while you were at it, why not try out that disguise tech of Spy’s? Even if you never used it on the field, wouldn’t it be best if you understood how it works? And, well, you didn’t need anyone knowing it was _you_ playing with a flamethrower. You figured out how to calibrate it to Red Pyro.

A transparent field shimmered into being around you. You looked at your hands, which were covered by an image of Pyro’s large gloves. _This is awesome_. You let the bright orange flames fly into the air, waving the weapon around above you.

The door creaked open. You paused with the Phlogimajig over your head.

“Hey… Pyro,” Sniper said behind you after a pause, “Whatcha doin’ there, bud?”

You turned around, attempting to be casual, and mumbled something convincing. His face went from absolute confusion to a smirk.

“I see. Actually, I was wondering if you could give me some advice on something.”

“Mm mmph? _Mmmph_?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, sinking into despondency and turning to his rifles, “I owe somebody an apology.”

“Who-dda?”

“Jack, of course. I really upset her at the end of the match by takin’ her over to the carnage at BLU spawn. I forgot what it’s like to be new here and still have some morals and all that. It was right stupid of me.”

 _Oh?_ “…Hudda hudda.”

“You’re right, it did really upset her. And she’s the last person I’d want to upset. She’s the only one on this base that would give me the time of day.”

“Mm mm mmph _mmph_?” you mumbled, pretending to be an indignant Pyro.

“Aside from you, you’re alright. But you’ve never avenged my death before have you? I can’t believe I did that to the nicest, wittiest, potentially most _skilled_ , not to mention the only attractive member of the team.”

You were relieved that a black gas mask was shielding your blushing face from Sniper. Your heart skipped a few beats— he thought you were… _skilled?_ And also _attractive?_

The door opened again and in walked Heavy. “Hello Jack of Trades. Hello Sniper,” he greeted you casually as he picked up a new minigun.

“Hudda hudda hudda hudda!”

“Jack, you know that Spy’s disguise only works on other team, da?”

“Oh…” Heavy left and you whipped your head towards Sniper. “Why were you pretending I was Pyro?”

“Why were _you_ pretending you were Pyro?”

“B-because I wanted to try out some weapons before I was prying them out of my teammates’ cold, dead hands!” you sputtered as you threw the Phlog and the watch into their slots, “What’s your excuse?”

“Just wanted you to know I’m sorry, and, ah… yeah, I wanted you to know I’m sorry.” His face was as red as yours and he was clearly avoiding saying something. “And Jack, I won’t be goin’ after the enemy team after the rounds anymore, alright? I don’t want to contribute to something that disturbs you like that.”

You were at a loss for words. It had sickened you that he enjoyed getting revenge on his defenseless rivals, but now he was giving that up because of what it did to you. You did the only thing that came to mind and threw your arms around him. His chest was warm and despite his seemingly stringy build you could tell that he was rather muscular—but you tried not to think about that. As you pressed your cheek into him he gingerly set a hand on your back, uncertain of what to do.

“ _Five minutes until the mission_ ,” the old woman announced over the P.A., “ _Five minutes._ ”

“Well, we ought to get going then,” Sniper said as you quickly separated, both rather flustered and startled. He picked up a wooden rifle and practically sprinted out of the room.

Although you were tempted to stay and test out more of these fascinating weapons, you knew you should be get going too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for all the Sniper. I just have fun writing him I guess even if I do so rather inaccurately.
> 
> Alright, next chapter's the second battle. We're only a few more chapters away from where the story splits, and I can't wait!


	9. Queen of the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack fights her second battle of the day.
> 
> Credit to Poputchikz for beta reading this chapter! Check out her fic, Double Backer BLUs, if you're a Spy fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter is a little more intense in its depiction of violence. Jack sees some stuff that messes with her, but I try not to describe it too much.
> 
> Also sorry for the lack of Pauling this chapter I just couldn't figure it out. I can't wait to get to her route ugh there's not enough lesbian in this starting portion

When you returned to the respawn room you couldn’t help but notice the dramatic changes in your teammates’ outfits. Soldier now donned a theatrical wizard hat and cape, Scout was in a chicken costume, Pyro had a birdcage on their head, Demo was dressed like a pirate, et cetera et cetera. It was like you showed up to a get-together without knowing that it was actually a full-blown costume party. Could this be normal for them?

As you folded up Medic’s list and tucked it in under a chair for safekeeping, a teleporter labelled “Sawmill” started spinning to life. You filed into line amidst the cheers and rallying cries of your teammates. “You need any help this time, Jackie?” Engie asked behind you.

“I think I got it, thanks,” you said. You tried not to think about seeing him earlier at the showers— and how you might want to accept the offer just to be held against his chest. Yep, you weren’t thinking about that at all. You hopped on the teleporter and found yourself only slightly dizzy when you arrived in the dark wooden spawn room. Following the trail of dust Scout left behind, you jogged towards whatever the objective was. Outside it was soggy and cold; your feet sank into the soft ground as you went along. It was quite the change from Dustbowl. Around you the boards of buildings were painted with lichen and moss and everything looked abandoned and rather rotten.

“Long time, no see, team,” Pauling greeted you over the mic, “You’ve just got to hold this point for a total of three minutes before BLU can.”

You dashed around a corner into the largest building on site to find both Scouts battling it out on the point between two gnarly circular saws. You dipped behind the closer saw and crouched down, taking potshots at the BLU Scout until your teammate barely won. As you dived onto the point to capture it, you could see that Scout was not looking great but didn’t seem to have any intention of getting help.

“Scout, I got this. Go heal up!”

“Not until we cap!” In his eyes there was cold resolution, but also a great amount of fear. It caught you off guard to see him like this. But even if he was prepared to die, you couldn’t let him. You dashed to a med pack and grabbed it while you began to sustain fire from the opposing Heavy. You caught sight of Scout, who was dancing around the pill bombs of the BLU Demo, terror in his wide eyes.

You tossed him the pack and started firing your measly shotgun at your foe. It was clear that you were outmatched; the only advantage you had over him was depth perception. But that might be enough.

Discretely scooping up the enemy Scout’s melee weapon (a fish,) you feinted a step backwards and Demo fired his launcher further away. In leaps and bounds you charged towards him, and he was disoriented enough with your location that you got to him without getting hit. You slapped him across the head with your fish. He drew his sword and swung blindly at you, giving you another opening. The third hit knocked him out cold and you snatched his grenade launcher.

A ding and hydraulic hiss sounded behind you. “The point is ours,” Ms. Pauling congratulated you, “Now all you have to do is keep it that way.” You fell back with Scout to defend from a less vulnerable position.

“You were right about fish being an effective weapon!”

“Well _duh!_ It’s like, hey, dummy, when you get to Hell even God will be able to smell the fish stank on your face.”

“Such a power move,” you mumbled as you fired shots at the distant Heavy. You weren’t the greatest aim with the new weapon from this distance, especially with your middle finger missing, so you looked around for a better way to help the team.

Engie was on the second level struggling to simultaneously repair and upgrade his level one sentry. You darted to an ammunition crate and scooped up as much metal material as you could carry, then ran up the stairs, grimacing as some shrapnel lodged into your arm. Without stopping, you dumped the metal at his feet and fired a grenade right into the chest of an approaching BLU Pyro, blowing them to smithereens. Blood splattered you as you kept charging to the other set of stairs. You let loose three grenades into the cluster of enemies on the other side. You had no idea whether you killed any of them, because you were instantly struck by a rocket and everything was suddenly black.

When the respawn machine spat you out, you stumbled into the room, tripping over some teleporters. The process was like passing out and being jarred awake within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t imagine you’d ever get used to it, but luckily you had all your fingers back. Once you returned to the main building, you saw that the point had been taken. You were weaponless for a second until Heavy threw the BLU Soldier out of the barn and he came crashing at your feet. You grabbed his rocket launcher and realized that you could turn the tide by fighting up the flanks and behind their lines. A smaller building to the left seemed like a good option.

You stumbled in to find… you. Your BLU counterpart was healing herself with a RED Medigun, breathing heavily and looking much worse for wear. You locked eyes. It was like looking in a mirror— but your reflection stared back with a burning hatred for you, and the same terrified resignation you had seen in Scout.

The two of you stayed still and didn’t speak for a long moment. You had no idea there was an enemy Jack until this moment.

“You killed my friend,” she spat, “And you’re using his weapon against us.” It sickened her as much as it must have sickened you to see her using the gun of the man who was comforting you just an hour ago.

“That’s what we were hired to do, wasn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.” More silence.

“You killed my friend too.”

“…What should we do? Trade?”

The two of you exchanged weapons and returned to your front lines, not knowing what else to do. Your team was hurting badly, so you healed up as much of them as you could. Medic was pocketing Demo but was being heavily targeted himself; a bodyshot from their Sniper shook him and he was stumbling, about to go down. You pointed the device at him, bringing him back from the brink.

He looked at you confused, almost slackjawed, before regaining his composure. “Danke, Frau Doctor!” he called before charging back into the fray. The team began to advance thanks to your help. You started healing Engie, who was moving up his sentry when suddenly he threw his gear to the side with a shocked expression. Before you could react, he swung his wrench down to your left and with a yelp, the BLU Spy, knife in hand, collapsed to the ground uncloaked.

“Thanks, Engie,” you said as you scooped up the dagger.

“No, thank _you_ , J—” he suddenly spun around to see his discarded sentry, its case broken and stray pieces scattered in the dirt. “Dammit, dammit, dammit dammit!” he grumbled as he gathered what he could. “Go on ahead, I can fix this!”

You rushed inside and started healing whoever you could. It wasn’t enough though— you were being peppered with too many bullets. Scout came leaping backwards down the stairs, shooting at a pursuer. “MEDIC! MEDIC!” You made eye contact, and with a pained smile, he changed his shouts to “JACK! JACK!” Seeing that his wounds were serious, you weaved through the combatants towards him. A rocket came from across the field and struck him in the hip, sending him flying into the wall and killing him, and you saw the moment the life left his blue eyes just before he slammed against the floor; his leg was viciously torn off by the explosion and you were sprinkled by his blood.

Yours ran cold.

None of the deaths had hit you like this before— but Scout, Scout was just a goofy kid. One who was calling for your help. It didn’t matter that he was going to respawn. You saw the fear in his eyes.

You turned back to your remaining teammates, the scene still etched into your mind, and frantically tried to keep as many of them alive as possible. But a BLU level two sentry had popped out of nowhere and was making your job a lot harder. One by one your teammates were getting picked off around you. It seemed that your healing wasn’t doing much good.

A sticky launcher lay at your feet and you were sick of this stalemate. You tossed the Medigun aside and armed yourself, shooting the bombs as close to the sentry as you could get. Your aim with these still wasn’t the best, though. “ _One minute left!_ ” announced the old woman in her booming voice.

 _Fuck it_ , you thought, and you charged recklessly towards it, dipping behind the saw. You were getting seriously hurt and losing a lot of blood, you knew you were a goner. You just needed to get in a big cluster of explosions before you went down. You got out from behind the saw and fired one last one, and… everything was getting fuzzy.

You regained consciousness in respawn, unsure whether you detonated the bombs. Teleporting back to the building, you saw that the sentry _was_ down, but your team was still struggling to make a push and maintain their line. Engie was upgrading a new sentry, and you felt a pang of guilt for having indirectly hurt your team’s chances. If you could have just watched your back and seen that Spy coming, the level three might still be up…

Soldier rocket jumped over everyone to the point. “Get. On. The. Point! Maggots!” he yelled back to everyone. Inspired, you grabbed Scout’s scattergun and tried to imitate Scout’s jumps. Fortunately, you went sailing through the air and landed on the point. Unfortunately, you crashed and went skidding over the metal with your face against the floor.

The spinning saw was mere inches away from your eyes when you got up. Copying Scout again, you moved erratically to make it more difficult for enemies to hit you. Heavy got to the point as well, and within a matter of hard-fought seconds, it was yours.

A sniper rifle lay at the side entrance, and you discarded the Force-a-Nature for that. You ducked into a deteriorating shack by the wayside and began picking off enemies. Your crosshairs hovered around the head of the BLU Medic. He had been so kind to you an hour ago when you had an anxiety attack… all that changed was the color. You didn’t know if you could take the shot. You debated it; your team was winning, right? And nobody could possibly know if you let him go.

“Ah, finally, a Sniper with class,” said a French voice behind you. Engrossed with your moral dilemma, you had no time to avoid the knife that plunged into your back.

You stumbled into the respawn room again, especially disoriented due to your tunnel vision. Right on your heels was Engie.

“Jack!” His expression had been grim before noticing you, but when he did his face lit up. “Finally. I’ve been tryin’ to thank you for a while now. Well, I guess we still have a battle to get to. Ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at that as you boarded the teleporter. But the fight was exhausting you physically and emotionally, so you wouldn’t mind some conversation. In resupply you picked up a wrench and began upgrading the level one teleporter outside the door. A few moments later Engie came out and seemed astonished that you would be upgrading the teleporter.

“Why, you’re sweeter than a stack of pancakes, Jackie,” he said, crouching down to give you a hand. “You know _Spy_ won that round of poker last night, and not _me_ , right?”

“I know,” you laughed.

“Nobody’s brought me metal or got me healed like that before. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re actin’ like you need me to fix your car.”

The teleporter was upgraded quickly with your combined efforts. As soon as it started spinning, Pauling’s frantic voice came over your headset. “ _BLU has captured the point! I repeat, BLU has captured the point!”_

Engineer’s face blanched then pinkened, and you could imagine yours did the same. The tides had suddenly turned, likely due to the two of you being MIA. Engie stood and gestured to the tele. “Ladies first.”

You hopped off and dived for a minigun nearby, letting the bullets fly as you lugged it towards the BLUs. You continued to do this with increasing panic as the five second countdown began over the loudspeakers.

“YOU _FAILED!_ ” the old woman yelled over your headset. The minigun started clicking uselessly and the BLU team began celebrating, some of them dancing and some of them going after your teammates. You ditched the inoperable gun and made a break for resupply, but seeing BLU mercs running rampant down the main path you tried a more out of the way route. Your breathing was shallow and your chest was tight as you crept along with your back against a wall. You poked your head around the corner to see if the coast was clear.

It was not. The BLU Engineer stopped dead in his tracks, startled by your sudden appearance. His arms were full of gear and he jumped a little, causing his wrench to fall near you. Without hesitation, you picked it up and extended it to him only to find that he had pulled a pistol on you. You didn’t retract the offered wrench, only stood there with a rather disappointed half-frown. The two of you just gawked at each other for a few tense moments. The rival Engineer wore a short blond beard, so his face was even more masked than your team’s, but his mouth was clearly agape in confusion and shock. Swiftly, he holstered his gun and took his wrench, tipped his hat at you, and started leisurely walking back towards BLU spawn. Baffled by the interaction, you watched him go. He too looked back at you, and the whole thing would have started all over again had you not realized that you didn’t have all day to engage in a staring contest with the enemy. You darted for resupply and hopped on the teleporter.


	10. Comforts, Callouts, and Coaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack deals with losing.
> 
> also sorry i'm addicted to that "i love engie" juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend Poputchikz made a title card for Jack!! Check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDcKwHUimpw&feature=youtu.be She's also writing a fantastic reader x spy fic, Double Backer BLUs :D
> 
> Big thanks to Gretschdoll beta reading this chapter! She's putting together an amazing >>>TF2 PULP MAG<<< that I'm doing some art for. It's coming out soon and it'll be the first installation of a series of magazines filled with fanfic, fanart, and fun faux articles. She'll be posting & updating at https://mercenarytales.tumblr.com/ and if you've drawn any fanart that you would want featured in the upcoming mag be sure to contact her!
> 
> TyrantQueen was also a big help with coming up with ideas for this chapter. She's writing a reader-insert with a format similar to mine, "The Round Starts In..." so go give that a read too!

You got back within a few seconds of your team’s Engie. The two of you exchanged an abashed glance, and guilt was pressing on you. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this job. Maybe you weren’t the kind of person who can give their all and do whatever it takes. Scenes from the battle haunted you; bludgeoning the enemy Demo with a fish, Scout being hit by a rocket, your teammates falling one by one as you desperately tried to heal them. Could you keep doing this _every_ day?

“You alright there, Jackie?”

“Uhh…”

“Nobody’s gonna blame you for how the match turned out. And you did nothing wrong.” Still, you detected your same guilt in his voice.

“Maybe they _should_ blame me, though. I… just don’t know if I’m, y’know, cut out for this.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Soldier walked out of the respawn, angrier than usual, but unlike usual, he didn’t speak a word. Scout appeared from the teleporter looking rather embarrassed, trying to avoid being noticed and training his eyes on the ground. This probably wasn’t the best place to talk about it; you weren’t in the mood to be seen by your teammates either.

You nodded and walked with Engie into the hall. “I’m so sorry for distracting you…” you whispered, afraid that some stray mercs would hear you confess to going AWOL.

“I’m sorry for being distracted. Y’ain’t got nothing to apologize for.”

“But if I had been paying attention, you wouldn’t have needed to break your sentry just to get that Spy.”

“Nah, if I’d have just warned you, you coulda gotten him. At Dustbowl you saved my hide by killin’ one of ‘em, you could have absolutely handled yourself.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t think it was his fault, of course, but it was comforting to hear you weren’t the only feeling like you had messed up. “Thank you for doing it, though, you saved my life. I guess that doesn’t mean much anymore, but I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” You walked in silence for a few moments.

“I… I still don’t think I’m the right kind of person for the job.”

He chuckled almost joylessly. “I don’t think anyone is.”

“Aren’t you?” you asked louder.

“You might wanna keep it down, don’t want Big Brother to hear us,” he whispered, bringing your attention to the cameras lining the hall. “But no. Sure, I take a pride in my work, and the pay’s astronomical, but day in and day out I’m buildin’ and fixin’ the same things, dyin’ over and over, seein’ all sortsa horrible things, for what? To defend a pit of gravel?”

“God, I don’t understand how anyone could do that. I’m not even through my first day yet, and I’m already considering leaving.”

“Any sane person would.”

“How long have you been here, Engie?”

“Oh, about four years. I’m halfway through my tenure.”

“You have to stay here for _four more years?_ ” You were now standing at the door to his workshop.

“Well…” He thought for a long while. “Would you mind steppin’ inside?”

You ogled at the blueprints and machines all around the room as Engie turned on some noisy, half-built machine. “There, nobody can hear us now,” Engie explained. “Can I trust you to never repeat what I’m about to say?” Wide-eyed, you nodded. “Shucks, I’m dumber’n dirt for tellin’ you this but… I’ve been wantin’ to leave myself.”

“What’s been keeping you?”

“Aside from the fact that TF Industries would spend millions to hunt me down? For starters, it would be a lot harder alone.”

Was he implying what you thought he was implying? You sat in stunned silence. Well, aside from the mechanical ruckus.

“I’m not tryin’ to drag you along or anything—” He clarified frantically, “I’ve been considerin’ it for three years and I haven’t done it. All I’m sayin’, is if you decide after a while that you can’t handle it anymore, I would… I would be happy to tag along.”

It was a tempting offer, honestly— but your employers would hunt you down at _all expense?_ It sounded like a last resort. Regardless, it caught you off guard that he would tell you this and offer to do something that dangerous just because you might, after knowing you for all of twelve hours. But… you trusted him too.

“Thank you so much, I… don’t know what to say…”

He laughed again and a faint pinkness rose in his stubbled cheeks, “I think you did alright with ‘thank you.’”

“So, uh, you wanted to know about the teleporters?” he asked somewhat bashfully.

“Jack? Jack, it’s Pauling,” chimed your earpiece, “I have to talk to you about the last battle.”

You clenched your teeth and felt the color drain from your face. “Somethin’ wrong, Jackie?” Engie asked, stepping closer to you and frantically scanning both your face and the room.

“Pauling’s calling about the match,” you told Engie. You took your small headset off and waved him over, since this probably had to do with him too. The two of you were huddled around the communicator, close enough that you could feel him breathe. But there was no time to blush now! You pressed the button on your earpiece to respond. “Um, yeah, what’s up?”

“What’s that noise in the background?” Engie quickly turned off the machine and Pauling continued without pause. “Anyways, you broke protocol pretty severely.” You were paralyzed by fear. Without thinking, you grabbed Engie’s hand and squeezed tight, your fingers interlacing with his.

“It _is_ jarring to see your double on the battlefield, and I should have warned you in more explicit terms that there would already be a BLU Jack.” Realizing that this had nothing to do with Engie, you scrambled to throw the speaker back on your head. You had no idea how the rest of the team might respond to that… interaction, so it was probably best if none of them knew. “But you definitely should not have spoken with her, let alone traded weapons with her.”

“S-sorry, Ms. Pauling,” you choked.

“It’s—” She seemed to be at a loss for words, “Jack, it’s really strange, I can’t blame you. I’m… I’m not telling the Administrator. Just shoot next time. Aside from that, you’re meeting expectations. Jack, you were absolutely _ingenious_ the first round.” There was bafflement baked into her every word. It seemed like there was a whole lot she wasn’t telling you. But her voice was warm and genuine; hearing these compliments come from her was… really something. When she said your name, it somehow sounded like it was really _your_ name.

“Thank you so much…” You had no idea how you could express your gratitude. She was like an invisible angel on your shoulder, despite seeming so cold when you first awoke.

“I’ll see you next battle. You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.”

The line clicked off. Suddenly you remembered that you had been holding Engie’s hand the whole time, although you had loosened your grip when you realized you weren’t going to be punished. He was all kinds of confused when you caught his eye, you could almost hear what was running through his head. _What in Sam Hill is Pauling calling about? Am I off the hook? Should I let go of her hand?_ It was rather charming to see the mastermind himself so dumbfounded. You withdrew your hand bashfully and looked at your feet. “Sorry, she wasn’t calling about the, uh, teleporter mishap.”

“Well what _was_ she callin’ about? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, it was no big deal.”

A knock came at the door. “Jack of Trades?” Heavy called, “Engineer, is Jack of Trades in there?”

“Um, yeah, I’m here,” you responded hesitantly.

“Can I show you how to best shoot gun? Your form, it could use some work.”

“Alright, thanks Heavy.”

You started walking to the door. “Hey, Jackie,” Engineer said, “If you were curious about the teleporters, like you said you were last night, feel free to stop by sometime. I’d love to show ya.”

You thanked Engie and started walking down the hall with the intimidating Russian. “You shoot the gun well,” Heavy clarified apologetically, “But the way you carry it, it slows you down.”

“ATTENTION MERCENARIES,” the loudspeaker boomed through the corridor, “You have forty minutes until your next mission. Meet at respawn at 1100 hours on the dot.”

You walked into the testing grounds again and Heavy brought out a partially wooden minigun. “You see how I hold this gun? I lean back, so I do not have to hobble. My weight balances out the gun.” He waved the gun around like it was nothing and handed it over to you. You picked it up, not nearly as easy as your teacher. “Widen your stance, it helps with leverage.”

With these tips you found it easier to wield it; at the very least, you were now mobile with it.

“Good. Is important to turn with gun, so you can catch Spies behind you.”

“Is that so?” asked a familiar French voice from from a few yards away. Spy was smirking, likely impressed with himself for startling you at such an opportune moment. “It seems that you both need some practice on that front.”

“Honestly, yeah,” you said.

“Da. Spy, would you help Jack practice how to shoot you fast?”

He was caught off-guard for a moment and agreed only by nodding and going invisible.

Unsure of what to do exactly, you lifted the gun and scanned the field for the glimmer of his cloak. You thought you saw a flicker, and did your best to imitate the “ _chuk chuk chuk_ ” noise of the bullets.

“Do not worry, Jack,” Heavy told you, “Fire the bullets. He can avoid them if he is smart.”

You revved up the gun and went back to searching for your opponent, periodically shooting to no avail. Then you sensed a presence behind you.

You dropped the gun and wheeled around, drawing and cocking your shotgun in one fluid and single-handed motion. At this close a range, you could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled like cigarettes and peppermint. You felt that breath hitch as he inaudibly gasped and faintly saw his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall open in surprise. He regained his composure before decloaking and straightened his tie.

“Well, Misha, I do not know if she passes by your standards, but I am impressed.”

Heavy rubbed his stubbled chin. “This is okay for now. It would interrupt her on the battlefield, but it is better to be interrupted for a moment than it is to be dead. Thank you for training, Jack of Trades, but I should polish Svetlana before the battle.” With that Heavy left towards the armory.

“The Ambassador could use some cleaning as well,” Spy mused and turned away.

“Hey, Spy,” you called after him, “Would you actually mind helping me practice a little more?” Last battle’s encounters with the BLU Spy still stuck with you. You needed to be better at detecting him.

“Do you wish for me to be target practice again?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“Only on the condition that you will take instruction from me, and I will not just be running around dodging wild bullets.”

You agreed and he handed you his revolver. “Now,” he began, “In the heat of battle you will not be able to spend your time looking for the enemy. You must sharpen your awareness… Would you mind if I blindfolded you for this?”

“Umm…”

“Hey, hey!” Scout yelled as he and Pyro burst through the doors, “Check this shit out!” Pyro had gotten a hold of the hair spray included in the caddy provided by your employers. Using only a lighter they had turned it into a wild flamethrower, much to the delight of both the mercs.

“Perfect!” Spy cheered, “You would not be able to hear a Spy well in the noisy field either, and these two running around should simulate the chaos of battle.”

“Alright then, but how will I be able to tell where you are?”

“Scout,” he asked the runner who was now holding the improvised flamethrower, “Would you lend us one of your hand wrappings?”

“Yeah, yeah, one sec,” He answered. He swept the enormous cone of flames over the Frenchman’s head, only barely missing him. “Come on, how the hell did that _not_ scare you?”

Without comment Spy grabbed an end of one of the wrappings and started walking towards you, unraveling it as he went. “Could the two of you run around and make a lot of noise?”

“Mm mm mmph!” Pyro mumbled as they began chasing Scout around the room with the firespray.

Spy put a warm gloved hand on the side of your head and began winding the tape around your eyes. “You will have twenty seconds to locate me before I ‘stab’ you, and two tries to ‘shoot’ me.” From in front of you, he reached both his arms over your shoulders to tie the blindfold at the back of your head. He was so close to you again, his face only inches from yours. His presence was warm and… well, your face may have been as red as a cherry tomato. “I will not actually stab you, just tap you on the back when the time is up, and you can aim your gun and say that you are firing.”

“Okay, but how can I tell where you are?”

There was no response, only the sounds of Scout being chased around the room. _Alright, time to develop a sixth sense, I guess._ You tried to let the ruckus fade into the background of your mind and concentrated on listening calmer footfalls. _But there’s no way that would work either… he’s already silently snuck up on me before_. Maybe you should trust your intuition. When Spy was close to you, you felt a sort of tingling in your face, as though you could feel his presence there. Maybe you could tap into that… You tried to feel around in this way, and there seemed to be an electric presence just to your left.

“Bang!” you exclaimed as you aimed the gun at it. No answer. Time was running out, what else could you do?

You heard Scout crash into the floor and Pyro stop the flamethrower, likely offering him a hand up. But you noticed that when Scout crashed, you felt the vibrations through the floor a little. There were smaller ones as they got up and started roughhousing without the fire. You concentrated on your sense of these vibrations.

And there it was, the almost imperceptible tremor directly in front of you. “There you are.”

“Excellent work, Jacqueline,” Spy congratulated you as his footsteps clicked across the room to stand behind you. He untied the blindfold for you, his hands brushing your neck. “Of course, there will be even more distractions in battle, but I was not even expecting you to catch me here.”

“Alright, catch you two on the field,” Scout said as he and Pyro bolted from the room.

“Scout, wait!” you yelled as you chased after him towards respawn, trying to return the wrappings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the third and final battle for the first day, y'all! Then we get to the good stuff, and no more full chapters dedicated to the horrors of war!!!1!


	11. Drop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns to stay away from Soldier after a defeat. It is dance-off time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting into SFM recently and I made some images for a couple scenes in this story. I tacked them onto the ends of chapters 1 and 5, even though they are very amateur.
> 
> This chapter doesn't encompass the whole battle, unfortunately, but it's been forever since I updated so I wanted to let you guys know I'm alive and still working on this. One of the reasons I haven't been writing as fast is usual is the TF2 PULP FANZINE! I did some art and editing with a few talented TF2 authors and artists, and the final product is now published. On my profile page it's listed as one of my works so you can follow the links through there.

Scout thanked you once you caught up with him and returned his makeshift gloves. Soldier was standing on a small crate just outside the respawn, barking rallying cries mixed with scorn. As soon as you saw him, Scout was gone, already down the hallway you came from. “Private Jack!” Soldier yelled to you, “That was a pitiful performance last round. I know you can do better. And you will do better!”

“Give her a break, schweinhund,” Medic (the only other merc in the hall) chimed in while preparing his medigun, “She was healing you for a large part of the battle.” He rolled his eyes; as the team’s only healer he seemed to be used to and sick of this reproach.

“Right. Thank you for that! But do it faster next time. Drop and give me twenty!”

“I, uh, don’t think I’ll do that, actually.”

Soldier hopped off his soapbox and leaned in to whisper to you. “Jack, I don’t want to go hard on you. You’re my cousin or something. But if I treat you differently from the rest of the team, all hell will break loose.” He hopped up back on the box. “SO DROP AND GIVE ME _THIRTY_ , MAGGOT!”

You looked to Medic for advice and he shrugged silently, absolutely bewildered. “The answer’s still no.” You didn’t know if you could even do _one_ pushup.

Soldier’s icy eyes shot daggers at you from under his helmet. “Now it’s FORTY!”

“What are you gonna do if I don’t do forty pushups?”

“I— I’ll…” Soldier thought about it for a moment, and when he arrived at his answer his mouth twisted like one’s mouth might if they stubbed their toe and were trying to stay silent, or maybe were stubbornly approaching the brink of tears. “I’ll stop being your friend!”

You continued your staring contest for a moment before sighing and getting on the floor. You pushed your body up and down much easier than you thought you would. At twenty it started getting tougher.

“This is ridiculous,” Medic said to Soldier, “She doesn’t have to do pushups. It isn’t her fault you walk directly into explosive projectiles without taking a single evasive maneuver.”

“Evasive maneuver? That’s for hippies and communists who don’t have the strength and willpower of the American fighting man. Or woman. That’s for cowards who wouldn’t take a rocket to the stomach for their country, and probably wouldn’t even hold in the guts of their friends as they died, telling them that they were going to make it despite knowing they wouldn’t!”

You huffed through a handful more pushups and heard some movement next to you. You looked over to see Medic joining you in your drills. “Doctor? What—”

“Even if I cannot prevent Soldier from being rude to you on your first day, I will not sit by as you do pushups alone in the middle of the hall.” He raised a hand and gave you a thumbs up, completing a pushup one handed. _Damn_. You tried to do the same back at him, and to your amazement you could do it without much difficulty. _DAMN! How strong_ am _I?_

“This is cheating!” Soldier announced, scandalized. You crumpled under a great weight and lay face down on the floor; your patriotic friend had sat down on your back without warning. “So the rest will have to be harder now!”

Medic looked over to you with shock and concern. Rage coursed through your body; you couldn’t let him make a fool out of you. You planted your palms against the ground and pushed with all your might, rising with Soldier sitting on top of you. “Thirty-four,” you counted spitefully as you sank down to do another. While you powered through the last few, out of your peripheral you saw Medic’s jaw dropped. “Forty!” you yelled as you stood up to push Soldier off you. He fell on the ground on his own back, but he was still ecstatic.

“Excellent work, Private! That’s the kind of performance I want to see you give on the field!” You gave him a hand up and couldn’t help but wonder where all this strength came from. Were there other things that you didn’t know you could do yet? How and why did you ever get this strong?

You heard the teleporter spin to life and popped in to check it out. Apparently, your next mission would be in Badwater Basin. Right on time the rest of the team started charging towards the respawn, rallying with battle cries and weapons waved above their heads. You were one of the first to arrive and decided to hang back so you could upgrade Engie’s teleporter when he came through. Pauling’s warm voice came over your headset, speaking directly to you. “Alright Jack, the objective here is to prevent the BLUs from wheeling their bomb into the pit at the end of the rails. Break a leg out there. In fact, break several. BLU legs, not your own.” Her encouragement bolstered your spirits.

Soldier lumbered by and Scout dashed behind him; you gave both high fives as they passed. When Medic came through, all you could manage was a small smile. Despite your rocky start, he had supported you through your mental breakdowns and done solidarity pushups with you moments ago… you still weren’t quite sure where you stood with the good doctor, but nonetheless you were rather grateful for his help today if not his brain-scooping yesterday.

Engie was through next. He dropped a teleporter on the ground and kept moving without pause. “Thanks, Jackie!” he greeted you with a wide smile, seeing you ready with your wrench and teleporter parts. You upgraded the machine and headed to the front lines, following the railroad to a blue bomb in a shambly cart. The earth here was orange and rocky, and the buildings were more industrial than Dustbowl’s and Sawmill’s but still worn.

Scout was jumping around doing spirited aerobics while Demo did a whole backflip off of Soldier’s hands. A familiar red light flashed across your vision, and you went into fight or flight mode, remembering the last time you saw the deadly dot flicker. You ducked behind a boulder and traced the wildly darting dot up to a shady nook on the high ground. Sniper was waving to you, hat in hand, with a big smile on his stubbled face. Affected by the contagious enthusiasm around you, you waved back and started doing the first dance that you could think of. For some reason it was the Charleston; you kicked up desert sand as you stepped forwards and back, swinging your arms in front of you. Across the field the Australian jumped and clicked his heels together. In response you pointed up and down in disco fashion; your taunting opponent crouched down and kicked his legs out with a Russian dance. You got down and tried to do the same only to lose your balance and tumble on the ground. As Sniper and you shared a laugh from across the field, the ten second countdown began. You drew your shotgun and watched the BLU spawn closely until the countdown ran out.

And when it did— _BONK!_ A baseball struck you hard in the head, disorienting you severely. The team came out coordinated and aggressive—their Heavy and Soldier came out closest to the cart and started pushing it while their Medic ubered their Demo and quickly came around the side to rain explosives over your team. BLU Scout and Jack (still weird to see) came at you; you fired random shots into them but were vastly outgunned by the two. You ducked behind the boulder again as you reloaded, trying to come up with a plan and scanning the area for dropped weapons.

Then you could sense him: there was a Spy coming towards you. You levelled your shotgun to his chest and were about to fire when—

“Jacqueline!” RED Spy yelped in surprise as he appeared from thin air, “Merde, you are good at that. I thought this might come in handy.” He passed you a flare gun and vanished again, his hand on your arm for a brief moment even as he went invisible.

You poked your head out and fired at Scout, missing at first then getting a solid shot and igniting him. He ran for Medic, voice rife with pain, and a murderous rage overcame the face of your double. She drew a long sword from behind her back and charged at you with a scream. You took out the wrench you still had; she swung the sword down powerfully at your head and you just caught it with jaws of your tool. She pushed her sword down and you pushed your wrench up, her eyes drilling into yours as her steel approached your face. “Stop… hurting… my… _friends!_ ” she grunted at you through clenched teeth with your own voice.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “And neither can you.”

You might have been locked in stalemate for the whole match if you had not warmed up these exact muscles with Soldier’s drill a minute ago. You pushed her sword up off of you and kicked her in the chest, knocking her back enough for you to escape and pick a fight with someone without your face.

You jumped into the main action to find that the cart was already out of view. They had made it to the tunnel. You dashed to it to see them focused ahead and only a little of the ways in. RED Soldier laid at your feet, and instead of going for his guns you plucked two grenades from his uniform, pulled the pins, and rolled them into the tunnel. After the explosion the noise within stopped, but you didn’t dare look back. BLU Sniper waltzed out of spawn, and you had no time to react as he sent you back to base without even checking his scope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I s2g next chapter is the last for the general route! I have some specific route chapters already written up so I will be able to drop them more consistently. One of these chapters will be for a kind of Demo/Soldier "sidequest" in which Jack is a kind of wingwoman for Soldier-- it goes with any route but is totally skippable. I jsut wanted to write them because I think they are cute <3


	12. Kill Assist(ant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack owes someone.

You groaned as you stepped dizzy out of respawn and returned to the map. You hauled your fallen Heavy’s Tomislav and opened fire on the BLUs just coming out of the tunnel. Out of the corner of your eye you glimpsed an enemy flying your way with a shovel in hand and patriotism galore. Adrenaline shot through your veins as you summoned all your strength and swung the enormous gun around, smacking the BLU Soldier out of the air just as he was about to bludgeon your skull. You lost your grip on the gun, though, and it broke against the ground some feet from you. You were defenseless as enemies fired on you while they drew close to the first checkpoint. With pain ringing through your body and blinding you, you dove around a corner onto the ground, landing dead in the sand.

Or so you thought. Your senses returned to you, no longer drowned out by the burning hurt of bullets. You weakly lifted your head to see Medic extend a hand to you. “Come on, up we go.”

He pulled you to your feet, his big gloved hand wrapped around yours. “Stay alive a little longer, bitte, we must hold this position.” You retrieved a dropped sticky launcher and littered the checkpoint with bombs then scooped up a trashy homemade rocket launcher. (This you distinctly remembered reading about— its page was written in pencil by Jane himself, and it fires at strange angles but can do so rapidly.) You shot at the oncoming squadron of BLUs, but couldn’t hit any shots since they were ducking behind the cart. There was one way you could think of to get them, but it was dangerously stupid.

“I’m going to rocket jump over them so I can land a few direct shots!” Your stomach did backflips as you announced your plan to Medic. You hadn’t been able to jump with the RPG _made_ for jumping, and now you were about to use the one made of literal garbage. You crouched and fired at the ground but jumped too late, damaging your legs and going no more than a couple feet in the air.

“Don’t worry, I saw nothing,” Medic said with a sly sarcastic grin as he healed you.

You fired again, jumping on time this try but being propelled at the wrong angle; you floundered to grab the edge of the building’s roof but got purchase. You pulled yourself up and crouched out of view, loading your rocket launcher. With a deep breath you leapt off the roof, letting one, two rockets fly down on the enemies. Before the third, another shot from BLU Sniper hit you right between the eyes and you woke up at base. _Dammit! Why wasn’t I paying attention?_

You trudged back to the frontlines as the announcer boomed “The bomb has arrived at the first checkpoint, five minutes have been added to the clock!” You could see from a distance that the cart was already around the corner.

Spy poked his head out of one of the buildings and beckoned you with a wave of his hand. “Remember the favor you owe me, for five minutes’ assistance in battle?”

“Yeah, let’s get to it!” you rubbed your hands together, eager to operate on a plan hopefully a little more foolproof than trying to destroy a whole team with a gun made of garbage.

“That Sniper is doing too much damage; if we can take him out for a few moments our team can make an effective counter-push, but our rivals are too wary of me.”

Bullets began to rain on you from the high ground and you both ducked for cover. “Merde, add a sentry to our list of problems. Now,” Spy took _the Ambassador_ from his coat pocket and gently handed it to you, “You are going to shoot at me with this and miss. You must come close, though.”

The metal was cool to the touch, the wood of the grip luxurious and smooth, and the engraving of the woman even more gorgeous up close. The poker game last night had let you know how important this gun was. “I’m honored to even be _holding_ this thing.”

Spy let out a small laugh before continuing. “I will be disguised as an enemy retreating from you; I will request aid from a target, claiming to be out of ammunition and badly wounded, but stab them before they can lay a finger on you.”

BLU Soldier came flying backwards towards you, landing on the ground unresponsive between you and the battle. “It appears I have found my first disguise,” Spy said as the hologram of Soldier materialized around him, his voice morphing from dulcet French tones to gruff Midwestern grumbles.

“Your act would be more convincing if you had an empty gun,” you observed as you fumbled to empty your shotgun and hand it to him. “It’s not as fancy as the Ambassador, but—”

“I’m honored to even be _holding_ this thing, Jacqueline,” he interrupted you with a smile and a voice that didn’t fit him, “Let’s move.”

Spy stumbled backwards into one of the buildings as though running from a scuffle and only now discovering his defenselessness. “I need some help!” he called out. You fired shots just to the left and right of him as you heard Demo coming towards you two.

“I got ya, laddie!” the blue clad Scotsman called as he charged at you, unloading a grenade in your direction. Your heart stopped for a moment, braced for certain death, but swiftly Spy ducked behind him and drew his knife. But the concern in Demo’s eye was so genuine and his protective instinct so clear that you had to look away as your teammate plunged the balisong into his back.

When you turned back, the Soldier disguise had fizzled out to be replaced by Demo’s. “Pure dead brilliant, Bonnie,” Spy whispered in his new voice with a wink, “Tha Sniper’s just ahead.” The illusion of a pill launcher materialized over your empty shotgun. Spy nodded to you, signifying that you should start shooting. You shot just to the left of his head, and the whole time he was wholly concentrated on his mission, paying no mind to your bullets. He… trusted you, it seemed. “Sniper!” he yelled as he headed for the ammo crate in his room, his weapon clicking with no ammunition, “Could use a--”

“I’m not deaf, ya know!” the sharpshooter yelled with a grimace as he swapped out his rifle for an SMG and fired on both of you. The Frenchman’s disguise flickered and your shot stomach stung wildly. The second Sniper's attention was on the unarmed Spy you leveled the Ambassador at his head and fired with your last bullet, striking true.

“Boom,” you spat through the pain, “Headshot.”

“The bushman underestimates you, mon amie,” Spy grunted as he doubled over, “Merci beaucoup.”

There was a healthpack near the ammo. You brought it to Spy, whose red suit was being stained near black by his blood. Panicked, you opened his shirt and applied some of Medic’s miracle medicine to his wounds and quickly wound bandages around his torso and pulled them tight. You tried not to take note of his toned abdomen, nor the silky feel of his skin.

Spy coughed as his fingers flew to rebutton his clothes. “You are just full of surprises, Jacqueline, vous avez tous mes remerciements.” You couldn’t understand what he said, but there was some struggle in his seemingly genuine words, as though he weren’t used to sincerity. He maintained his cool as he stood and straightened his tie, expression inscrutable. “Now I will need a distraction in order to take out the sentry. Let me scout ahead to find your least dangerous approach.” After you traded guns the man vanished. You bandaged your own wound and reloaded your gun. That medicine really did work wonders quickly, as the pain subsided bit by bit.

You and Spy met in the previous room. “There appears to be a spot the sentry cannot reach where you can present a threat and lure the Engineer away. I will sap the sentry and hopefully stab the Engineer before you are truly endangered.”

Spy returned to invisibility and slinked behind the giant A/C unit BLU Engie built his rooftop sentry in front of. Peeking out behind it, you took potshots at the sentry, which couldn’t quite fire at you.

“Start prayin’, boy!” the Texan grumbled as he came towards you. It struck you who it was you were fighting here, and the moment from the end of the last battle came to your mind. He rounded the corner to see it was you, and almost jumped backwards. He fired instinctively, but jerked his aim into the air as to not hit you. You couldn’t shoot either after he took care not to hurt you.

It occurred to you that if you didn’t kill him, Spy was about to sneak up and stab him in the back. You… couldn’t see that. You turned and ran into the opposite building to find a teleporter, which you simply stomped on until it stopped working. You listened for Pauling to announce the death of either Spy or Engie.

“BLU Sentry down, BLU Teleporter down, BLU Engineer down! Wow, Spy, Jack, you are on a _roll_.”

“Thank you, Jacqueline. I do believe we are in an optimal position to counter-push, if you would be so kind to accompany me to the front lines.” You picked up a rifle on the way back and picked off the approaching Soldier and Medic from half cover. The fighting died down so you put your back to the bomb cart and pushed it backwards with all your might. Heavy joined quickly, as did Soldier, Demo, then most of the team. You let it fly back, its wheels screeching in protest. They had apparently all heard about your exploits through Ms. Pauling. Heavy gave you a pat on the back and some mercenaries began celebrating you (although you knew it was too early to be celebrating anything.) Demo hoisted you onto his shoulder cheered, offering you some booze he apparently had on him. You felt a little embarrassed being the center of attention, especially when Spy was the one who did most of the work. But he had disappeared, of course.

Your team’s hold was so strong that the cart barely moved an inch before the end of the match, at which point you were drained and knew that your high salary certainly was a fair trade for three battles a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Alright, now we're finally getting to the juicy parts. Thank you all for all your support! I definitely wouldn't have made it this far without so many awesome people commenting and encouraging me.  
> Here are the links to the next parts of the story.  
> Demo x Soldier sidequest: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556560/chapters/62015449  
> Sniper x reader: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578664/chapters/62075035  
> Engie x reader: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25734193/chapters/62489635  
> Spy x reader: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890304/chapters/62914213  
> Pauling x reader, Medic x reader: coming soon to a theater near you

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jack of All Trades](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017420) by [WillowsRambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowsRambles/pseuds/WillowsRambles)




End file.
